Lyrics:

Frank Zappa--guitar & vocal
Ian Underwood rhythm guitar
Jeff Simmons--bass & vocal
George Duke--organ
Aynsley Dunbar--drums
with The Phlorescent Leech & Eddie--vocals

Don't it ever get lonesome?
Yeah! Sure gets lonesome . . .
Don't it ever get sad when you go out on the road?
Oh, there was one time in Minneapolis . . . when I thought I had the clap for sure
Don't it ever get lonesome?
Lonesome ain't the word
Don't it ever get sad when you go out on a thirty day tour?
Oh, I'll take away . . .
You got nothing but groupies and promoters to love you
And a pile of laundry by the hotel door

Don't it ever get lonesome?
Don't it ever give a young man the blues?
Don't it ever get lonesome?
Don't it ever make a young man wanna go back home?
When the P.A. system eats it,
And the band plays some of the most terriblest shit you've ever known

Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you better get a
Shot from the doctor what the
Road Ladies do to you?

I know someday I will never,
I'll never go out on the road again, oh, yeah . . .
I know someday I will never,
I ain't gonna roam the countryside
No more
I'm gonna hang up them ol' Holiday Inns, yeah
And heal my knees up,
From when I was doin' it on the floor
See me doing it!
See me do it on the floor

Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you ever miss your
House in the country and your
Hot little mama too?
Don't you better get a
Shot from the doctor what the
Road Ladies do to you?