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Sunday, February 12, 2006 - ore 12:20
(categoria: " Vita Quotidiana ")
I hear the train a comin; its rollin round the bend,
And I aint seen the sunshine since I dont know when.
Im stuck at Folsom Prison and time keeps draggin on.
But that train keeps rollin on down to San Antone.
When I was just a baby, my mama told me, "Son,
Always be a good boy; dont ever play with guns."
But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
When I hear that whistle blowin I hang my head and cry.
I bet theres rich folk eatin in a fancy dining car.
Theyre probly drinkin coffee and smokin big cigars,
But I know I had it comin, I know I cant be free,
But those people keep a movin, and thats what tortures me.
Well, if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad train was mine,
I bet Id move on over a little farther down the line,
Far from Folsom Prison, thats where I want to stay,
And Id let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.
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