Livin' on the road my friend Is gonna keep you free and clean And now you wear your skin like iron And your breath is hard as kerosene Weren't you mamma
suppose The Poets tell how old Pancho fell, and Lefty's livin in cheap hotels The desert's quiet, Cleveland's cold And so the story ends we're told Pancho
ترجمة: ويلي نيلسون. بانشو ويفتي.
