Waiting For The Bus

My name is Gary Tyler, Louisiana-born
Shadow of the poplar tree on fields all ripe with corn
Sixteen years I counted on the rising of the sun
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home
Of all the Disunited States divided black and white
Louisiana taught me how to think and how to fight
Sixty of us kids aboard the number 91
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home

Bus was barely moving we were set upon and stopped
Watched 200 white boys throwing bottles, cans and rocks
Trapped and scared together there was nowhere we could run
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home
Boy outside the bus, an automatic in his hand
We heard a single shot and then we all just hit the ground
I never pulled a trigger and I never held a gun
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home

White boy lay there bleeding cops they searched the bus
Never found a thing to say that it was one of us
Took us down the station they were beating us for fun
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home
Gun produced from nowhere pinned the crime on me
A lynchmob for a jury meant they'd never set me free
Thirty years in prison for a crime I haven't done
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home

Waiting here the world has turned a thousand times or more
Stranded like the man who never knew they'd stopped the war
Waiting for the pardon but the pardon never comes
I'm just waiting for the bus to take me home.

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[Spoken] Let me tell you about a song That was brought to me by a good friend of mine who's a good songwriter And everytime he brings me a song I'm always willing

[Verse 1:] I was alone in the dark when I met ya Uuuuuuuuuuh uuuuuuh You took my hand and you told me you loved me Uuuuuuuuuuh uuuuuuh I was alone, there was no love in

Tonight, I'll give you every bit of my heart, Give you everything that I've got, I don't want to lose you, Tonight, you tell me that you want me to do, Everything

I'm Miss American Dream since I was 17 Don't matter if I step on the scene Or sneak away to the Philippines They're still gonna put pictures of my derriere in the magazine You

Ах, оставь мою душу в покое, Больно петь мне тебе о любви, Что-то грустное, что-то такое, От чего сердцу тесно в груди. Я твои выполняю заказы, Словно пьяный скрипач в кабаке. Ты мне платишь притворным экстазом И