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Living on the road my friend, |
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Is gonna keep you free and clean. |
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Now you wear your skin like iron, |
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And your breath as hard as kerosene. |
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You weren't your mama's only boy, |
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But her favorite one it seems. |
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She began to cry when you said goodbye, |
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And sank into your dreams. |
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Pancho was a bandit boys, |
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His horse was fast as polished steel, |
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He wore his gun outside his pants, |
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For all the honest world to feel. |
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Pancho met his match you know |
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On the deserts down in Mexico, |
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And nobody heard his dying words. |
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Ah, but that's the way it goes. |
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And all the Federales say, |
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They could have had him any day. |
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They only let him hang around, |
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Out of kindness, I suppose. |
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Lefty, he can't sing the blues |
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All night long like he used to. |
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The dust that Pancho bit down south |
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Ended up in Lefty's mouth. |
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The day they laid poor Pancho low, |
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Lefty split for Ohio |
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Where he got the bread to go, |
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There ain't nobody knows. |
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And all the Federales say, |
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They could have had him any day. |
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They only let him slip away, |
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Out of kindness, I suppose. |
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Well the poets tell how Pancho fell, |
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And Lefty's living in a cheap hotel. |
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The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold, |
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And so the story ends we're told. |
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Pancho needs your prayers it's true, |
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But save a few for Lefty too. |
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He just did what he had to do, |
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And now he's growing old. |
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And a few grey Federales say |
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They could have had him any day. |
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They only let go so wrong, |
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Out of kindness, I suppose. |
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A few gray Federales say |
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They could have had him any day. |
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They only let him so wrong, |
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Out of kindness, I suppose. |