| You hear a song and it’s not like any song you’ve ever heard before | 
| Think, «What is this, who is that?"and you bust it down to the record store | 
| And you buy the album of this song, take it home and listen to it all night long | 
| Until the morning, a dream is born and | 
| You wake up on a mission to buy that beat up Gibson hanging in the shop | 
| Cutting yards, selling baseball cards, whatever it takes till you drop | 
| A handful of crumpled up dollar bills on the counter | 
| And you play that thing until your fingers bleed where the strings cut ya | 
| But you can’t put it down | 
| Ain’t no rest for the rock stars | 
| Ain’t no sleep for the kids with guitars | 
| You can kill the lights and the amplifiers | 
| But dreams don’t care if you’re tired | 
| Ain’t no turning off the warning | 
| 'Cause we are high on and we’re haunted | 
| By the music in our bloodshot hearts | 
| There ain’t no rest, no rest for the rock stars | 
| You see that open mic night advertised on the marquee down the road | 
| You show up, sign up with a lump in your throat and a song you just wrote | 
| Throwing up in the bathroom stall, thinking hard about backing out | 
| But they call your name and it’s way too late for stage fright now | 
| Hands shaking, so is your voice, fumbling through the chord changes | 
| But about half way through the song fear starts to feel like famous | 
| And you taste that rush, that «born to do this"buzz | 
| And you try to shut your eyes after the show in your bed but | 
| The adrenaline won’t let you 'cause | 
| Ain’t no rest for the rock stars | 
| Ain’t no sleep for the kids with guitars | 
| You can kill the lights and the amplifiers | 
| But dreams don’t care if you’re tired | 
| Ain’t no turning off the warning | 
| 'Cause we are high on and we’re haunted | 
| By the music in our bloodshot hearts | 
| There ain’t no rest, no rest for the rock stars | 
| And it never changes, whether you’re playing sold-out arenas | 
| Listening to whole crowd singing every single word back at you, or you’re | 
| Strumming along way past your bedtime dark | 
| You trying to stretch your fingers far enough to play the first chord | 
| From the little people staring on at a poster on the ceiling | 
| To the Rolling Stones on it, yeah, they both know the feeling | 
| The hunger, the fire, the do or the die, or the platinum handcuffs | 
| The curse, the cure, the love | 
| Ain’t no rest for the rock stars | 
| Ain’t no sleep for the kids with guitars | 
| You can kill the lights and the amplifiers | 
| But dreams don’t care if you’re tired | 
| Ain’t no turning off the warning | 
| 'Cause we are high on and we’re haunted | 
| By the music in our bloodshot hearts | 
| There ain’t no rest, no rest for the rock stars |