Doyle. And Gods Will…. Hung Vagrants (on The Road). Zeneszám

That they hang on the stranger, tonight high and short
The sun is burning my head, on this road, so long road...
My throat is burning my lips are praying
I wish that someone can rescue me
Somebody different something different but nobody has to wander here
That they hang on the stranger, tonight high and short
Hang on the stranger, he had so many lives
that the moon will remember his face Hung vagrants,
no vagrants no pity here
Take the road, no vagrants no pity here
Hang the foreigner, nobody has to wander here.