NEXT TIME WE PLAY THIS TOWN
Words & Music © John Morton 1997.
 
Pack the gear,
Hit the road
Out of here
To the show.
“E.T.A?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does it pay?”
“Ain’t gonna play if it don’t!”
Check the sound,
Do the gig,
Hang around,
Strike the rig;
As for love
At first sight,
That was always for the others—
Until tonight—
 
When she came into the bar
With no particular man,
I couldn’t play my guitar—
I lost control of my hands,
’Cause she was talking to him,
But she was looking to see
If I was looking at her
Like she was looking at me—
 
We never spoke—
We didn’t need to explain—
Why go for broke
When we’re both feeling the same?
She let me know
I’m gonna see her again—
Next time
We play
This town.
Pack the gear,
Hit the road,
Disappear
Straight back home;
Your whole life
Flashes past
Every night
You know you’re dying on your ass.
Still you live
For the band
And the next
One-night stand,
While offstage,
Your love-life—
That was just imagination—
Until tonight—
 
When she came into the bar, (etc…)
 
We never spoke, (etc…)
 
And she said “Hi!”
With nothing more than a glance,
And her “Goodbye”
Was just the wave of a hand,
And my reply
Will be to jump at the chance—
Next time
We play
This town.
 
Next time, (etc…)
(Rpt.)
this song is looking for a singer…
FREEDOM RIDERS BROTHERS OF FUNK STAND THE HEAT GIVE ’EM SOME RHYTHM STAY TONIGHT WITH ME SHE’S MY
E-MAIL FEMALE BROTHER RAY & SISTER REE WE WILL STAND YOU MIGHT AS WELL FORGET ME GOOD-NIGHT TO LOVE ROAD RAGE MY GIRL IS REAL INTO YOU THE WOMAN RUNS DEEP