When I go to visit my friends in São Carlos I feel my heart full of joy And we love to talk about the things we lived We did together Many years ago There’s a friend who once lived in a wagon A train wagon without wheels Without wheels, without wheels Without wheels, without wheels And we’ve spent so many hours listening to Bob Dylan Like a Rolling Stone without home In a dark room of the same old wagon We’ve developed a thousand scenes from cans (rolls) of film Pics of mountains, lakes, falls, and girls On a train wagon without wheels Without wheels, without wheels Without wheels, without wheels Without wheels, without wheels Without wheels, without wheels Without wheels, without wheels Without a home Like a Rolling Stone