Somewhere, in the back bar,
By the side of a motorway,
Someone takes a breath and takes the stage,
Then starts to play.

In the back of a thousand bars and
By the side of a thousand roads,
Worn wood, rusted bronze
And honest toil explode.

They cast long shadows in the evening sun,
But when the morning comes, they've moved along.

Hey hey Mr. Dylan,
I have written you a song
For the river of the singers that
Still rolls along.

So here's to Ragan,
And here's to Marwood,
Here's to Tim and Jonah too.
Here's to the ones who have to take the stage
And sing the truth.

Sing till you sweat for the spirit of the age,
Sing life to lines that are dead on the page,
Sing for your sorrow your wisdom, your rage, sing out.
Sing for the records you played til they broke,
For the parts where you insisted that nobody spoke.
Sing for the words that you knew but they still make you choke.

Cast a long shadow in the evening sun
And when the morning comes, pass it along.