in old D.C. And I've driven across deserts, driven by the irony That only being shackled to the road could ever I be free To the east, to the east, the road
To the east, to the east, the road beneath my feet. To the west, to the west, I haven?t got there yet. To the north, to the north, never to be caught.
Prevod: Turner, Frank. The Road.
To the east, to the east, the road beneath my feet. To the west, to the west, I haven?t got there yet. To the north, to the north, never to be caught
