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The car got punked, oh, when we wait' for our thin
I feel as tired as my jeans
Bobby hitchhiking' with a car, the thought was for a mile
When we hung on all the way to New Orleans
I picked up my old harmonica, oh, in my worn red handkerchief
I played weakly and Bobby, he watched along
The windshield wipers beat to the beat and Bobby held my hand in his
And we sang all the songs we could
Freedom is just another words for having nothing left
Nothing, I seek nothing to lose
Meaning well was not an art loved by you< br/>But feeling good is not easy for me, no, no
Not easy for me is without you
Between the Kentucky mines and the California sun
Yes, he got to know everything about my life
In all kinds of weather, in everything we went to
Made me forget everything around me
One day near Salinas, I remember, they turn around and go
He's looking for a home that I hope he gets
But I had to trade my whole future for a single night from that day
And know Bobby's body next to mine
Freedom is just another word for having nothing left
I'm not looking for anything, that's all he left behind
To measure well is not much loved by you
But to measure well is not easy to get Hear me, no, no
Not easy to get me here without you
Na, na, na, my Bobby McGee
I want that we're dating
I want my man
I want you to come, that's the only thing I can
I'll be married Come back again
Na na na, my Bobby McGee
Na, na, na
Hey, hey, hey, my Bobby McGee