Swingin' my sweet chariot low

Gotta make it home to georgia

Excise lawman on my trail

I'm a silver dollar forger

I see a road block on my right

Engine take me through the night

Gotta make it home to the arms of my sweet baby.



Twenty miles from that georgia state

I can hear the sirens wailing

If only I can cross that line

And leave the police trailing

I see a red light at my rear

Now I'm sweatin' cold steel fear

Gotta make it home to the arms of my sweet baby.



I'm tired of all this running

Hiding from the light

I want to walk out in the sun



I'll soon be home I can see the clay

I'll soon be in Atlanta

If only I can hold that line

I can live just how I want to

I see the state line in my lights

Engine take me through the night

Gotta make it home to the arms of my sweet baby.



(copyright 1974 mountain/carlin music)