Right Won't Touch a Hand

The wind blows Sunday papers at my feet

As I walk down this cold and lonely street

My hands searched through my pockets for a dime

While the memory of you eats away my mind.

And looking back I see that I was wrong

But the road I'm on don't lead me back to home

And I can't turn back 'cause everything is gone, yes, it's gone

Right won't touch a hand that's filled with wrong.

I was filled with so much jealousy

And doubted all the love you had for me

But now I see the kind of fool I've been

And I'll never see the one I love again.

Cause, looking back I see that I was wrong

But the road I'm on don't lead me back to home

And I can't turn back 'cause everything is gone, yes, it's gone

Right won't touch a hand that; s filled with wrong.

Right won't touch a hand that's filled with wrong...