As the Sunday sun sets down on Rhino, Nevada
I'm not really a gambling man, but I'm quite partial to a flutter
And if you're playing Black Jack, they'll let you drink for free
And that sounds like a pretty good deal to me

So I pull up to a table, and I sink my first Coors Light
I get chatting to an old man, sat by my side
He can't quite place my accent and he asks me where I'm from
Like many before he thinks that I'm Australian

I tell him I'm from England, from Essex to be precise
We both lose a couple of hands and sink some more Coors Light
He asks me what I'm doing, so far away from home
I tell him I've been singing on the road

He asks me where I've been
What I've seen
And what I might have learnt
Travelling on that giant piece of dirt

I've seen the rivers and the mountains, the forests through the trees
I've seen the deserts and canyons, I've seen the tumbleweed
I watched the sunset of the west coast, with sand between my toes
I've been East freezing my bollocks off, in six inches of snow
I've seen the interstates and freeways, from my rental car
Mostly though, I've seen a lot of bars
I've seen a few music venues and a, shit-tonne of bars