I’m walking down the road
My suitcase in my hand
I’m walking down the road
A suitcase in my hand
A man asked me where I’m going
I said, I ain’t going no place
I just needed the line for this song
And I only write from personal experience

I’m stuck in jail
Ain’t got no bail
I’m stuck in jail
Ain’t got no bail
If the words “jail” and “bail”
Didn’t happen to rhyme
There’d be 1,437 fewer songs
There’d be 1,437 fewer songs

I’m walking down the line
Although a line has no actual width, so that’s impossible
Lemme tell you of my trials
Actually there was only one, it was for resisting arrest after jaywalking
I was given a $125 fine or five hours of community service
I ended up mowing the lawn in front of the police station

Lonesome Lufthansa
On a lonesome runway
Lonesome Lufthansa
On a lonesome runway
Lonesome train on a lonesome track
Sounds more romantic
But my imagination is limited by my environment
And I’ve been to LAX more than I’ve been to Union Station

Boll weevil, boll weevil ,boll weevil
Dust storm, dust storm, dust storm
Mama’s in the kitchen, she’s crying
Onions

I’m bluer than bluer than bluer than blue
Bluer than bluer than bluer than blue
Doctor says you got you a rare skin disease
So I went home and wrote nine thousand songs
And they all sounded exactly like this one

Blue, I’m blue
Blue, I’m blue

(lyrics: Dan Bern)