Lyrics James Reyne – The Traveller

Well it’s a hard time for the traveller
And it’s a high time for the poor
Something’s very wrong here
This key won’t fit the door

Won’t manhandle anymore
Just wanna tell the world I’m home
Yes I’m home
Slide over baby
Your bad dream’s back again

Got a rifle — totin’ man
He’s got a shot-gun in his hand
We don’t care no more
We’ve got a dead — bolt on the door
Tonight we’re gonna see who wins
We’re gonna suffer for our sins
We’re gonna knock down all the windows
We’re gonna let the cold wind blow

I don’t understand the bother
Appreciate the fuss
Fogging up the windows
On a big fat greyhound bus
Everybody’s talkin’
There’s such a carry on
By the time they form a posse’
I’ll be long gone

I’m home