You are lighter than air
So high you can barely bear the freedom
To do as you choose
No, nothing gets you down
No boundaries no chains around your soul
Making your own truth
But don't you know balloons never really reach the moon
And even birds high in the sky must come down
With the Gravity
That pulls you to your knees
There has to be a final reckoning
Gravity
You know you won't escape
By grace or grave you'll feel the gravity
When you're nearing the end
Of your journey don't pretend
No, the light you see, it might not be the sun
For your heart will melt like wax
When your arms discover that the wings you've made
Cannot take you home
Oh don't you know balloons never really reach the moon
And even birds high in the sky must come down
Let the Gravity
Pull you to your knees
There has to be a final reckoning
Gravity
You know you won't escape
By grace or grave you'll feel the gravityWell, I quit my job down at the car wash,
Left my mama a goodbye note,
By sundown I'd left Kingston,
With my guitar under my coat,
I hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis,
Got a room at the YMCA,
For the next three weeks I went huntin' them nights,
Just lookin' for a place to play,
Well, I thought my pickin' would set 'em on fire,
But nobody wanted to hire a guitar man.
Well, I nearly 'bout starved to death down in Memphis,
I run outta money and luck,
So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia,
On a overloaded poultry truck,
I thumbed on down to Panama City,
Started pickin' out some o' them all night bars,
Hopin' I could make myself a dollar,
Makin' music on my guitar,
I got the same old story at them all night piers,
There ain't no room around here for a guitar man
We don't need a guitar man, son
So I slept in the hobo jungles,
Roamed a thousand miles of track,
Till I found myself in Mobile Alabama,
At a club they call Big Jack's,
A little four-piece band was jammin',
So I took my guitar and I sat in,
I showed 'em what a band would sound like,
With a swingin' little guitar man.
Show 'em, son
If you ever take a trip down to the ocean,
Find yourself down around Mobile,
Make it on out to a club called Jack's,
If you got a little time to kill,
Just follow that crowd of people,
You'll wind up out on his dance floor,
Diggin' the finest little five-piece group,
Up and down the Gulf of Mexico,
Guess who's leadin' that five-piece band,
Well, wouldn't ya know, it's that swingin' little guitar man.