Im Not Drivin

[A]
 [D]
 [G]
 [D]

>[A]From Boston to Southshore on [D]the back of the bus

I[G]t's the last winter storm[D] of the season and such

A[A]nd I'm lost to the fiction o[D]f the book in my lap

T[G]he snow makes me drowsy while t[D]he dreams roll and tumble

A[A]nd it's a long way to Texa[D]s it's a long way back home

a[G]nd it's a three hour fligh[D]t on the plane when I go

a[A]way from the snow from [D]Boston to Southshore

W[G]here the dreams roll and tumble and br[D]ing the prose to the wheel

 [A]    Bring the prose to th[D]e wheel

 [G]    I'm not drivin these wheels

 [D]    I'm not drivin these wheels

 [A]    Bring the prose to th[D]e wheel

 [G]    I'm not drivin these wheels

 [D]    I'm not drivin these wheels

And that face in the window is one I should know
But it's never been haloed by New England snow
And the child across the aisle is sleeping away
While the soldier behind me lets his dreams roll and tumble my way

.[A] . .[D]toda[G]y   [D]       [A]           [D]               [G]                   [D]

This cradle of the interstate so weary of dreams
The hurt that they cause us is now restless it seems
Oh soldier dear soldier you keep your dreams to yourself
My heart's rolled and tumbled until I put it on the shelf

Repeat First Verse