West Coast Hobo in a Boxcar Blues

Lyin' on a cold floor but honey I ain’t so poor.
Got all the stars in Heaven
And the ghosts of old Hank Williams.
I can ride a boxcar.
I love to read the names on them.
Up and down the West Coast.
Fifteen hundred miles, no place to lay my head.
I passed around a bottle.
I bummed cigarettes and I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean.
I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean.
Stretched out and wild.
'scuse me, Miss? You done made my list.
I been cravin' your attention.
I must confess I ain’t new to this
But it’s been too long to mention.
I’m not into temptation
But I’ll take it every chance that I can get.
Rollin' up and down the West Coast
Fifteen hundred miles, no place to lay my head
I passed around a bottle.
I bummed cigarettes and I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean
I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean
Stretched out and wild
Stretched out and wild
'A broken no good rambler'
Honey, that’s just your opinion
I’m the king of this old highway and the road is my dominion
I can ride a boxcar
I love to read the names on them
Rollin' up and down the West Coast
Fifteen hundred miles, no place to lay my head
I passed around a bottle
I bummed cigarettes and I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean
I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean
I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean
I am
Stretched out and wild as the world deepest ocean
Stretched out and wild
Stretched out and wild
Stretched out and wild
Stretched out and wild