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
The gun wants a hand
And money wants a spender
And road wants a man
I turn my face to the highway
I turn my face to the highway
I turn my face to the highway
And I turn my back on you
And devil wants a sinner
The sky wants a bird
The table wants a dinner
And the lips want a word
The glass wants the wine
The fist wants to hurt
And the clock wants the time
And the shovel wants to work
I turn my face to the highway
I turn my face to the highway
I turn my face to the highway
And I turn my back on you
The coal wants a miner
The soldier takes a stand
The walls of the prison want a solitary man
The window wants a curtain
The plow wants the land
The diamond ring wants to fit upon the finger of her hand
I turn my face to the highway
I turn my face to the highway
I turn my face to the highway
And I turn my back on you