ender7227 said:i got yall all beat
The Wanderer -- johnny cash
I went out wandering
through streets paved with gold
lifted some stone saw the skin and bones
of a city without a soul
I went out wandering
under an atomic sky
where the ground won't turn
and the rain it burns
like the tears when I said goodbye
Yeah I left with nothing
nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering
I went drifting
through the capitals of tin
where men can't walk or freely talk
and sons turn their fathers in
Yeah I went out walking
down that old Lake Lane
I passed by a thousand signs
Just a looking for my own name
Yeah I left with nothing
nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering
Yeah I went out there in search of experience
to taste and to touch and to feel as much
as a man can before he repents
I went walking
looking for one good man
a spirit who would not bend or break
who would stand at his father's right hand
I went out walking with a Bible and a gun
the word of God lay heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one
Now Jesus don't you wait up
Jesus I'll be home soon
Yeah I went out for the paper
Told her I'd be back by noon
Yeah I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering
Yeah I left with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
I went wandering
Sunday Morning Coming Down -- johnny cash
Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.
I'd smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I'd been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I'd lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.
In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.
On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I'm wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothing short a' dying
That's half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.