We've come on the sloop John B, My grandfather and me. Around Nassau Town we did roam through them dry sea beds and dinosaur bones. The heat beat down fit to crack them stones. Man, I feel so broke down I gotta go home. Hoist up the John B sails. See how the main sail sets. I call for the captain sayin, I gotta go home. I call for the captain sayin, I wanna go home. Them good days are gone. The good days are gone. Them good days are gone. The good days are gone.
The first mate - her heart sunk. She went and cried in the captain's bunk. I said, Don't cry baby! Don't fly in a rage. I'll tell you a story about the Golden Age. 30 cents a gallon, the superhighway - You could fly like the wind through the hollow of the day. John Stone would leave you alone. You'd never get broke down, never go home. Hoist up the John B sails. See how the main sail sets. I call for the captain sayin, I gotta go home. I call for the captain sayin, I wanna go home. Them good days are gone. The good days are gone. Them good days are gone. The good days are gone.
Nevada! Baby, don't go to bits. We get to Reno and we call it quits. Nevada! Baby, don't go to bits. We get to Reno and we call it quits. Nevada! Baby, don't go to bits. We get to Reno and we call it quits.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
