On the inner male voice and the call of the wild.

There's times I'd like to bed down on a sofa,
And let some pretty lady rub my back.
And spend the early morning drinking coffee,
Talkin' about when I'll be coming back.

But I don't let no no woman tie me down,
And I'll never get too old to get around.
I wanna die along the highway, and rot away,
Like some old high-line pole,
Rest this ramblin' fever in my soul.

--Merle Haggard