I hear the train a comin´
it´s rolling round 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 Anton..
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
now every time I hear that whistle I hang my head and cry..
I bet there´s rich folks eating in a fancy dining car
they´re probally drinkin´ coffee and smoking big cigarrs.
Well I know I had it coming, I know I can´t be free
but those people keep a movin´
and that´s what torture means...
Well if they´d free me from this prison,
if that railroad train was mine
I bet I´d move just a little further down the line
far from Folsom prison is where I long to stay
and I´d let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.....