White Line Fever

WHITE LINE FEVER
Writer Merle Haggard

White Line Fever
A sickness born down deep within my soul
White Line Fever
The years keep flyin' by like the highline poles
The wrinkles in my forehead show the miles I've put behind me
They continue to remind how fast I'm growin' old
Guess I'll die with this fever in my soul
I wonder just what makes a man keep pushing on
What makes me keep on hummin' this old highway song
I've been from coast to coast a hundred times before
I ain't found one single place where I ain't been before
White Line Fever
A sickness born down deep within my soul
White Line Fever
The years keep flyin' by like the highline poles

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I was raised in Santa Fe Reefer in little California town Three door down from the railroad track Where they set the old boxcar down. Born the son of a railroad man Who rode 'em

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Oh, hear this Robert Zimmerman I wrote a song for you About a strange young man called Dylan With a voice like sand and glue Some words of truthful vengeance They could pin us to

Если надо для любимой, то на Южный берег Крыма тут же прикачу. Три луны и два заката, и бриллианты в три карата - я за все плачу! О себе я забываю, все,