Road Angel
Tom Johnston / John Hartman
Tiran Porter / Michael Hossack
I was ridin' down that highway
Silver Harley by my side
When I thought I saw my lady
She was headed for the Berkely hill
Pistol on her hip in case she needed a thrill
I don't believe it, don't believe a word
I don't believe it, don't believe a word
I said, come on with me, baby
Don't you want to ride with me
She put her hand into her bag, now
Pulled out a half pint of red eye sauce
Sneakin' 'round the corner, drinkin' whiskey from a jar
I don't believe it, don't believe a word
I don't believe it, don't believe a word
Camino Ángel
Tom Johnston/John Hartman
Tiran Porter/Michael Hossack
Estaba cabalgando por esa carretera
Harley de plata a mi lado
Cuando pensé que había visto a mi señora
Se dirigía a la colina Berkely
Pistola en la cadera en caso de que necesitara una emoción
No lo creo, no creas ni una palabra
No lo creo, no creas ni una palabra
Dije, ven conmigo, nena
¿No quieres ir conmigo?
Ella puso su mano en su bolso, ahora
Sacó media pinta de salsa de ojos rojos
Escabulliéndose a la vuelta de la esquina, bebiendo whisky de un frasco
No lo creo, no creas ni una palabra
No lo creo, no creas ni una palabra
Escrita por: John Hartman / Michael Hossack / Tiran Porter / Tom Johnston