William Clark Green New Orleans
I’m going crazy mama, I’m coming home
Let your voice ring in my ears through the telephone.
I’m eager like a top ready to come unwound
This truck has seen the miles, but your smile is where I’m bound.
And I’m bound for the border, bound for New Orleans
But I only got a quarter for gasoline
I got a half a tank of gas, and I’m burning oil
And I’d rather be from rags because the riches are too damn spoiled
I got a friend in Fort Worth, said he’ll loan me some bills
Then I’ll fill up with gas, and I’m spinning my wheels
And I’m bound for the border, bound for New Orleans
But I only got a quarter for gasoline
And I’m bound for the border, bound for New Orleans
But I only got a quarter for gasoline
