Laid the blessings on the ground Softening of sound draws us closed again Stay, stay and watch the coals Till they cease to glow like empty promises
Papa's in the kitchen, mama's in the field Murder in the hen house, mud flung high upon the wheels Rooster in the dooryard just leaning on the horn Wind
All my life I've been poor boy son, scratching for my meat I have been kicked in my teeth till the blood run hot and sweet Seen a lot of living my friends
Hear me out, day follows day Light turns to clay in my hands How to explain so pristine the pain Kindness made the cut so clean I still care for you
There may come a time A time in everyone?s life Where nothing seems to go your way Where nothing seems to turn out right There may come a time You just
Such the lazy Jackstraw always late for tea Never bothers to ring lately Says the silly sparrow a gossip in the grain Have you heard the, oh you don't
Meg White, you're alright In fact I think you're pretty swell, can't you tell? Meg White, such a pretty thing I saw your face on the cover of a magazine
When we first met we were kids, we were wild, we were insects And after a while I grew coarse, I grew cold, I grew reckless I hold this memory, hold you
It's the widow now that owns that angry plow The spartan mule and the crippled cow The fallow field that will yield no more As the fox lay sleeping beneath
Baby, it's been a long day, baby Things ain't going my way You know I need you here Here by my side All of the time And baby, the way you move me it'
Such the lazy Jackstraw, Always late for tea Never bothers to ring lately Says the silly Sparrow, 'There's gossip in the grain, Have you heard the
Пераклад: Рэй LaMontagne. Плёткі ў збожжы.
: There may come a time, a time in everyones life where nothin seems to go your way where nothing seems to turn out right there may come a time, you
: It's the Widow now that owns that angry plow, The spartan Mule and The Crippled Cow The fallow field that will yield no more, As the fox lay sleeping
: Hear me out Day follows day Light turns to clay in my hands How to explain, So pristine the pain It was kindness made the cut so clean I still
: Papa's in the kitchen, Mama's in the field There's a murder in the henhouse Mud flung high upon the wheels Ol' rooster in the dooryard He's just
: All my life I been poor boy son, Scratchin' for my meat I have been kicked in my teeth, Till the blood run hot and sweet I seen a lot of living
