The Load Out

The Load Out

By Jackson Browne

Now the seats(sēt) are all empty
Let the roadies(ˈrōdē) take the stage
Pack it up and tear(ter) it down
They’re the first to come and last to leave
Working for that minimum wage(wāj)
They’ll set it up in another town

Tonight the people were so fine
They waited there in line
And when they got up on their feet they made the show
And that was sweet–
But I can hear the sound
Of slamming(ˈslamiNG) doors and folding chairs
And that’s a sound they’ll never know
Now roll(rōl) them cases out and lift(lift) them amps
Haul(hôl) them trusses(trəs) down and get’em up them ramps(ramp)
‘Cause when it comes to moving me
You know You guys are the champs(CHamp)
But when that last guitar’s been packed away
You know that I still want to play
So just make sure you got it all set to go
Before you come for my piano

But the band’s on the bus
And they’re waiting to go
We’ve got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago(SHiˈkäɡō, SHiˈkôɡō)
Or Detroit(dəˈtroit) I don’t know
We do so many shows in a row
And these towns all look the same
We just pass the time in our hotel rooms
And wander ‘round backstage(bakˈstāj)
Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd
And we remember why we came

Now we got country and western(ˈwestərn) on the bus
R and B we got disco(ˈdiskō) in eight tracks and cassettes(kəˈset) in stereo(ˈsterēō)

We’ve got rural(ˈro͝orəl) scenes(sēn) and magazines
We’ve got truckers(ˈtrəkər) on the CB
We’ve got Richard(ˈriCHərd) Pryor on the video
We got time to think of the ones we love
While the miles roll away
But the only time that seems too short
Is the time that we get to play
People you’ve got the power over what we do
You can sit there and wait
Or you can pull us through
Come along sing the song
You know you can’t go wrong
‘Cause when that morning sun comes beating(ˈbēdiNG) down
You’re going to wake up in your town

But we’ll be scheduled(ˈskejo͞old) to appear
A thousand miles away from here