Wet wind on the sidewalk, I'm starin' at the rain Walkin' up the street, yeah and walkin' down again And my feet are tired and my brain is numb See that
So why are you holding my hand tonight? I'm not intending to go far away I'm just slipping through to the back room I'll leave you messages almost everyday
Small child messing down, messing down In the streets of Bombay Cities like this have no shame, no shame Indeed, why should they? Out in the middle distance
Desert candle in a tented space Throwing softer shadows on a covered face Sister, silent to the likes of me Pay my respects to her propriety Is this
Glued to the kerbstone, staring Frozen at the stopsign too See that crazy suicide mongrel He's gonna try to clear that avenue Old dog of experience Ripping
Roots down in the wet clay Branches glistening Roots to branches Roots to branches Roots to branches Roots to branches Roots to branches Roots to branches
Rare and precious chain Do I have to tell you, tell you once again? Under red lights, on soft nights It all comes back to you Rare and precious chain
Brings jasmine tea on a painted tray And bends to kiss my frown away But I'm still stuck in the August rain Stuck out in the cloudburst once again The
She peeled from a stretch black snake Which slipped up to the hotel door Darting looks from piercing eyes The stir of memory and then no more Well, you
Wake hard in the morning, see the young girl milking Stream rushing by on a bed of stone Old goats and sandstone cracking, all containing Squeezing that
A walk on the quiet side late in the day Don't mean to get in anybodys way The Gods seem willing, sun's in the sky Old crows cawing as the straight crows
the faces cut in unmoving stone. Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening. Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening. True disciples
译文: 杰思罗蒂尤尔. 对分公司根.
: Glued to the kerbstone, staring. Frozen at the stop-sign too. See that crazy suicide mongrel. He's going to try to cross that avenue. Old dog of
: She peeled from a stretch black snake which slipped up to the hotel door. Darting looks from piercing eyes The stir of memory and then no more.
: Wake hard in the morning. See the young girl milking. Stream rushing by on a bed of stone. Old goats and sandstone cracking All containing Squeezing
