I hear the train a commin, it's rollin around the bend,
and i ain't seen the sunshine since i don't know when,
I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin on,
But that train keeps a rollin on down to San Antone.
When i was just a baby, my mama told me son, always
be a good boy, don't 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.
Guitar solo
I bet there's rich folks eaten, in a fancy dinin car,
there probly drinkin coffee, and smokin big sigars,
but i know i had it comin, i know i can't be free,
but those people keep a movin, and that's what
tortures me.
Well if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad
was mine, i bet i'd move it all a little farther down
the line, far from folsom prison, that's where i want to
stay, and i'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues
away.
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