| There was a time when lonely men
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| Would wander through this land rolling aimlessly along
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| So many times, I’ve heard of their sad stories
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| Written in the words of dead men’s songs
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| Down through the years, many men have yearned for freedom
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| Some found it only on the open road
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| So many tears of blood have fell around us
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| 'Cause you can’t always do what you are told
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| Please tell me where have all the hobos gone to
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| I see no fire burning down by the rusty railroad track
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| Could it be that time has gone and left them
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| Tied up in life’s eternal traveling sack?
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| Last Sunday night, I wrote a letter to my loved ones
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| I signed my name and knew I’d stayed away too long
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| There was a time when my heart was free to wander
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| And I remember as I sing this hobo song
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| Please tell me where have all the hobos gone to
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| I see no fire burning down by the rusty railroad track
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| Could it be that time has gone and left them
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| Tied up in life’s eternal traveling sack?
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| Tied up in life’s eternal traveling sack |