I never knew the charm of spring, never met it face to face. Carried me through desperation, to the one who was waiting for me. Ah, look at all the lonely people. When I recall what we had, I feel lost, I feel sad. Don't you come back no more, no more.
Some people say a man is made out of mud.
A poor man's made out of muscle and blood. My breaking heart and I agree that you and I could never be, so with my best, my very best, I set you free. I shot a man from Reno, just to watch him die. For a little silver quarter, we can have the Pullman porter turn the lights down low. The radio and the telephone and the movies that we know may just be passing fancies, and in time may go.