Оригинален текст
Near a schorched desert highway,
Far away from the city's limits,
Lives an old man, a hermit,
Smoking pot all day and rambling things.
'Bout the days of his youth,
And how he spent his money.
'Bout how girls would sit on his lap,
For some weed and some extra cash.
Then came the day,
That the things he knew,
Were just out of reach,
For the old man there was nothing to do.
But you know, life's wheel, turns in many directions,
Now his wealth and his youth are no longer.
No young girls will sit on his lap,
Life and poverty does not match.
Then came the day,
That the things he knew,
Were just out of reach,
For the old man there was nothing to do.
The devil comes a'rollin',
The old man dead is fallin'.
Dragged to hell,
There was nothing he could do.