Brian Burns - (C)opr. 1993 - Bill Butler Music (BMI)

On a dark, deserted highway in the southwest Texas hills
I grew tired of the journey and the rolling of the wheels,
so I pulled off to the roadside there beneath the midnight moon
by a flashing neon remnant that read "Lost Highway Saloon".

I walked into the rundown ruin time had left around that bend,
and an old man in a worn out hat smiled and said, "come in."
I dropped a nickel in the jukebox as the old man drew my beer,
then I let the sound of music drown the road noise from my ears.

Hank Williams sang a sad one as I sat back down again,
then I heard a host of other ghostly voices joining in.
There was Ernest, Keith, and Lefty in this old familiar tune
playing on the haunted jukebox at the Lost Highway Saloon.

There were people all around me where there was no one just before,
and the kicking of their boot heels rumbled through the old dance floor.
The room was filled with smoke and laughter and Bob Wills fiddle played
while a mighty cowboy choir sang and played the night away.

I listened to the songs I knew and a few I'd never heard,
and as my heroes sang for me that night, I hung on every word.
I could smell the whiskey on Hank's breath and Patsy Cline's perfume
all around the haunted jukebox at the Lost Highway Saloon.

Then the music softly faded and the laughter slowly died,
that old man tipped his hat to me as I bid him goodnight.
He said, "you've come a long, long way," and he called me by my name,
"you've still got a long way to go - just remember - no two journeys end the same."

Many times I've rode that highway looking for that place again,
but there's only hills and open fields, and soon the highway ends.
I guess our time is like that open road and our lives are merely tunes
playing on a haunted jukebox in some Lost Highway Saloon.

So friend, if you see that light some lonely night, stop in and hear the tune
playing on the haunted jukebox at the Lost Highway Saloon.