It was Dallas, Texas,
San Antone, or Idaho,
Maybe in New Mexico,
I don't know...,
Some time ago...,
I met a leather man out on the road,
Crease and fold,
Bent and old,
Had the saddest story ever told,
Chill your soul,
Cut the bone,
He said "I been on a roll,
On the road,
I been on a roll for so long,
It's so wrong...,
He said "What's left of me is cold,
Bought and sold,
Had no one to hold for so long,
It's so wrong...",
He said "No place feels like home,
No, No place feels like home...,
No place has felt like home for so long",
Saddest story ever told...,
"This path is one I chose",
On he goes,
"Up and down the oceans coast,
On a boat,
With nothing of my own,
All alone,
In Alaska where its cold,
With freezing snows,
Spent some time in Mexico,
Way down below,
But no matter where I go,
I know that everywhere I roam,
No place feels like home...,
Something's always off,
Drifter move along,
Black sheep of the fold..."
The man had the saddest story ever told.