someone said you couldn't tell your baby You're so proud to be the father of so beautiful a child Freedom freedom freedom to say what you feel Freedom freedom freedom
Tradução: Roger Miller. Libertad.
pistols Get out your stones Get out your knives Cut them to the bone They are the lackeys of the grocer's machine They built the dark satanic mills That
child for crying out loud The name of the game is pleasing the crowd You can never make 'em all happy You just try to keep tryin' Your shackles and freedoms
(by Roger Miller) Busted flat in Baton Rouge headin' for the trains feelin' nearly faded as my jeans Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained
