Wheels, Money, Women, And Soul Poem by Hans Ostrom

I got troubles with my transport.
My car is broke. The bus don't run.
I got troubles with my transport.
My car is broke. The bus don't run.
If I was rich and had a limo,
I'd ride from dusk to rising sun.

I got troubles with the money.
It goes out but don't come in.
I got troubles with the money
Going out, not coming in.
I'd pray to God for riches,
But they tell me it's a sin.

I got troubles with the women.
They play me bad and do me wrong.
Always falling for a woman
Who plays me bad and does me wrong.
I'm waiting for the woman
Who'll do me right and love me long.

I got troubles with my soul, now.
It's tired of war and aches for peace.
I'm troubled deep in my soul, son.
It's tired of war and aches for peace.
I don't like to admit it, but
Sometimes I pray for sweet release.

[Bridge: ]

Wheels, money, women, and soul.
The ride, the green, the girls, my soul.
I'm oh-for-four in these essentials.
Can't cross the bridge, can't pay the toll.