Now we were young and we were boldnWe were three out on the roadnStayin' up all night and drivin' past the dawnnMe and two from Tennessee, up in lights on that marqueenFrom Folsom Prison to San Quentin, oh but now those days are gonennHis guitar was dark and deep, he played in the lower rangenEven now it sends a shiver up my spinenHe played a twangin' metal string, and his tone was round and strangenHe left too soon and no one's ever took his place inside my mindnnLuther, can you hear me where you are?nI'm still out here on the road and travelin' so farnYeah Luther?nnYes, and I still miss the time, when we'd three play