Letter From Omaha
Well I can't sleep with all these hand-me-downs
Battered up chests and faded dreams
Every new life seems to spin away
Like sand escaping through the seams
Send me a letter from Omaha
Said a needle or thread could mend the tears
But tonight the cotton fields, they
Smell like calico
And the color of your hair
Stars stand against the lonely blue
Like pin-pricks made by midnight hands
They tried to sew you a pure white dress
Got tied up in the misdeeds and demands
Cotton burned all brown and wasted
Like an innocence fell to disrepair
But tonight the ashes, they
Smell like calico
And the color of your hair
If I could have my one and only wish
I'd sew your hair all to the lining of my shirt
I'd stand in the noon day clean and golden
Not the color of the dry land dirt
Send me a letter from Omaha
Said a needle or thread could mend the tears
But tonight the sugarcane, it
Smells like calico
And the color of your hair
Похожие новости.
He About To Lose Me
I'm touching hands with someone seriously beautiful I feel it burning and I know I'm standing far too close I'm telling lies and if it shows I see that he don't care I
How Does It Feel?
How Does It Feel? Wooo wooo! [in background] Yessur! aha New Skateboard P Hey! Let's go get 'em uh-huh yo, hola [Verse 1] Mearle maire, club muchacho Asorted flavours, in they solatos Inspire young minds, stacked by Nato's With the right determination
Crescent Moon
Ohhh… wooo …hooo…. We always are together Walking the same road, You and me like destiny But then the path had parted, You went down one road, and I went the other way Loneliness, the
Человек Живет
Чужую жизнь я в бесконечном темпе наблюдаю. Она скитается за стёклами окна трамвая. Живу, а может быть в театре драму я играю, Сценарий между актами в вечернем выпуске читаю. Вижу человека, он живёт как-будто
Пятница
БУУМ! Итак, вникай, Понедельник – день-великан, Не обхватить и не догнать его никак, Я мечусь как Христофор к берегу от берега, Но в чемодане только табак – а где Америка?! Дальше – вторник, а я в