Exit eight, small cafe,
Georgia moonlight, it's three AM,
And I've been driving all night,
She got a funny air, red-brown hair,
In the porch light,
She said, we're open all night,
So won't you come inside,
It's gonna be all right.
She said, tired?
I said, I'm a little bit unstable,
She said, honey I will help you if I'm able,
And there's a bottle of relief upon the table,
And we're open all night,
So won't you come inside,
It's gonna be all right.
She said,
I was born the year the rockets landed,
Circa 1969 and I got stranded,
Now the comet's getting close,
And I can't stand it,
She said, but we're open all night,
So won't you come inside.
It's gonna be all right, yeah.
Exit eight, small cafe,
Georgia moonlight, it's eight AM,
And I've been drinking all night,
And there is nothing I will not do,
To make it all right,
She said, we're open all night,
So won't you come inside,
We're gonna be all right.