All the Same

The traveler and the sleeper start to seem the same to me
When tomorrow doesn’t offer any guarantee
A flip of fate can send a man with concrete in his shoes
Down the track just singing those Jimmy Rodgers blues
And the man who looks over at the picket fence to scoff
Becomes the thing he hated the day the wheels comes off
‘Cause when the jobs are gone and the gas is gone
And they groundd all the planes
No promise of tomorrow
Wll that makes us all the same
Romanticize your ramblin', and the way you up and leave
Let the cowboy run against the wind, it’s only make believe
Set your hopes on things eternal, set your eyes on things above
And sit down on the front porch with the people that you love
‘Cause you can’t take it with you
Ah, what a cryin' shame
Six figures, six feet under
That’s what makes us all the same
The traveler and the sleeper, the sinner and the saint
The rich man and the poor man, all subjected to fate
You can’t reason with the clock hands
You can’t reason with the grave
The Reaper and the Maker
Well that makes us all the same
All the same, all the the same
All the same, same, same
The Reaper and the Maker
Well that makes us all the same
All the same, all the the same
All the same, same, same
The Reaper and the Maker
Well that makes us all the same
The moths ate up my rhinestone suit and the El Dorado’s rusted
Someone stole my mandolin when the windows all got busted
Made me reevaluate what I really trusted
The moths ate up my rhinestone suit and the El Dorado’s rusted