‘58 I hit the road, right outta the army. Army’s the last place gimme a sof’ bed. Slept on nothin’ but hard places since. Hard ground ‘n train cars, like that. But’cha get used to it. Lay a piece a cardboard under ya’s ‘bout the best ya can do. Slept ever’where a man could sleep, junkyards, ev’ry damn place to think of. Come nightfall, ya look for a safe place to crawl inta, ‘specially if the weather’s actin’ up.