Translation of Jail Guitar Doors by Gilby Clarke

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Let me tell you 'bout Wayne,
And his deals of cocaine,
A little more every day.
Holding for a friend until the band do well,
Then the D.E.A. locked him away.

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor.
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son.
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.

An' I'll tell you 'bout Pete,
Didn't want no fame,
Gave all his money away.
Well there's something wrong,
It'll be good for you, son.
And so they certified him insane.

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor.
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son.
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.

And then there's Keith,
Waiting for trial, $25 thousand bail.
If he goes down, you won't hear his sound,
So his friends carry on anyway, fuck 'em!

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor.
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son.
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.

Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors

Translate to: --Select-- Spanish English Arabic Czech Danish German Estonian Finnish French Dutch Greek Hebrew Haitian Creole Hungarian Indonesian Italian Japanese Korean Lithuanian Latvian Norwegian Polish Portuguese Romanian Russian Slovak Slovene Swedish Thai Turkish Ukrainian Vietnamese Simplified Chinese Traditional Chinese

Let me tell you 'bout Wayne,
And his deals of cocaine,
A little more every day.
Holding for a friend until the band do well,
Then the D.E.A. locked him away.

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor.
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son.
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.

An' I'll tell you 'bout Pete,
Didn't want no fame,
Gave all his money away.
Well there's something wrong,
It'll be good for you, son.
And so they certified him insane.

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor.
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son.
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.

And then there's Keith,
Waiting for trial, $25 thousand bail.
If he goes down, you won't hear his sound,
So his friends carry on anyway, fuck 'em!

Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.
Bang bang, go the boots on the floor.
Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son.
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors.

Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors
Jail guitar doors