Right Won’t Touch a Hand George Jones

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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