Empty glasses on the table,
Rows of bottles without labels.
No-one drinks with friends no more.
Look to yourself and that's for sure.
Pull up all the roots I'm growing,
I'm on my way.
Don't know quite just where I'm going,
I'm on my way.
I'm on my way,
I don't know when but I'm going soon
On my way.
It won't be long,
perhaps this afternoon.
I'll follow signs that point the way
To yet another empty day.
Seems it's just my generation,
But I never leave the station.
Memories that come it seems
To haunt me always in my dreams.
Trains go whistling by forever,
I'll just hope for sunny weather.