Tom Waits — Face to the Highway

I’m going away I’m going away I’m going away I’m going away The cradle wants a baby, kitchen wants a pan The heart wants a certain kind of lover, if it can The ocean wants a sailor, a gun wants a hand Money wants a spender and the road wants a man I'll turn my face to the highway I'll turn my face to the highway I'll turn my face to the highway And I'll turn my back on you Devil wants a sinner, the sky wants a bird The table wants the dinner and the lips want a word Glass wants the wine, a fist wants to hurt A clock wants the time and the shovel wants to work I'll turn my face to the highway I'll turn my face to the highway I'll turn my face to the highway And I'll turn my back on you I’m going away I’m going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away Coal wants a miner, soldier takes a stand The walls of the prison want a solitary man The window wants a curtain, the plow wants the land Diamond ring wants to fit upon the finger of her hand I'll turn my face to the highway I'll turn my face to the highway I'll turn my face to the highway And I'll turn my back on you Going away I’m going away I’m going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away I'm going away