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Folsom Prison |
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(johnny cash) |
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I hear the train a coming |
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it's rolling round the bend |
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And I ain't seen the sunshine |
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since I don't know when |
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I'm stuck at Folsom Prison |
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and time keeps draggin' on |
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But that train keeps rolling |
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on down to San Antone |
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When I was just a baby |
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my mama told me, "Son |
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Always be a good boy |
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don't ever play with guns." |
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But I shot a man in Reno |
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just to watch him die |
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When I hear that whistle blowing |
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I hang my head and cry |
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I bet there's rich folk eating |
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in a fancy dining car |
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They're prob'ly drinking coffee |
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and smokin' big cigars |
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But I know I had it coming |
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I know I can't be free |
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But those people keep a moving |
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and that's what tortures me |
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Well, if they freed me from this prison |
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if that railroad train was mine, |
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I bet I'd move on over |
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a little farther down the line |
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Far from Folsom Prison |
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that's where I want to stay |
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And I'd let that lonesome whistle |
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blow my blues away. |