Tekster:
Grateful Dead

32 teeth in a jawbone, Alabama trying for none Before I have to hit him, I hope he's got the sense to run Reason the poor girls love him, promise them

My spy boy saw you spy boy sittin' by the bi-yo My spy boy told your spy boy, "i'm gonna set you flag on fi-yo." I said, "hey now,"

Big boss man Can't you hear me when I call? Big boss man Can't you hear me when I call? You ain't so big You just tall that's just about all You got

Well my mama told me, my papa told me too Now my mama told me, papa told me too Well I shouldn't be here tryin' to sing these railroad blues Wish I had

Well, I taught that weeping willow how to cry, cry, cry Taught the clouds how to cover up a clear blue sky Tears I cried for that woman are gonna flood

When the last rose of summer pricks my finger And the hot sun chills me to the bone When I can't hear the song for the singer And I can't tell my pillow

A man and a woman come together as strangers When they part they're usually strangers still It's like a practical joke played on us by our maker Empty

Well this job I've got is just a little too hard, Running out of money, lord, I need more pay. Gonna wake up in the morning lord, gonna pack my bags,

In the attics of my life, full of cloudy dreams unreal Full of tastes no tongue can know, and lights no eye can see When there was no ear to hear, you