Counting Crows - Pancho & Lefty - Текст песни

(Original by Townes Van Zandt) 

Livin' on the road, my friend
Was gonna keep you free and clean 
But now you wear your skin like iron 
And your breath as hard as kerosene 
You weren't your mama's only boy
But her favorite one, it seems 
She began to cry when you said goodbye 
And sank into your dreams 
Pancho was a bandit, boys 
His horse as fast as polished steel 
He wore his gun outside his pants 
For all the honest world to feel 
Pancho met his match, you know 
On the deserts down in Mexico 
No one heard his dyin' words 
Ah, but that's the way it goes 
All the federales say 
They could have had him any day 
They only let him slip away 
Out of kindness, I suppose 
Lefty he can't sing the blues 
All night long like he used to 
The dust that Pancho bit down south 
Ended up in Lefty's mouth 
The day they laid poor Pancho low 
Lefty split for Ohio 
Where he got the bread to go 
There ain't nobody 'knows 
All the federales say 
They could have had him any day 
We only let him slip away 
Out of kindness, I suppose 
The poets tell how Pancho fell 
And Lefty's livin' in a cheap hotel 
The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold
And so the story ends, we're told 
Pancho needs your prayers, it's true 
But save a few for Lefty, too 
He only did what he had to do 
And now he's growin' old 
All the federales say 
We could have had him any day 
They only let him go so long 
Out of kindness, I suppose 
A few old gray federales still say
We could have had him any day 
We only let him go so long 
Out of kindness, I suppose