Occasionally someone will passnwith eyes like the bottom of a whiskey glassnasking ‘bout highway 9nI’ll clear my throat and scratch my nosena little peculiar I supposenbut I know what’s minennBeen down here a few yearsnfollowed a trail of union tearsnthat were never washed awaynI watched as men crossed that linenwatched as men took what’s minenwell it’s just ain’t my waynnchorus:ndown at Johnson’s Stationnsome watched and some went innsome purged it from their memorynand tried to begin againnnThem dues didn’t come out like they went innand soon it was empty hands againnand them barrel fires didn’t burn so brightnthe horns stopped blowing as they rode pastnand some found solace in a whiskey glassnand some took to dealing with the nightnnCan never say I’m homesickn‘cause I ain’t never had no home (2)nnA company comes and breaks down a mannthen it takes and takes all it cannthen leaves ‘em lying like a carcass on the roadnso the faces may not seem too brightnand minds are frozen on that nightndown at Johnson’s Station ready to explodenn(chorus)