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