No tälläisen sain puuhattua. Liekö valmis, tiedä en. Kannattaneeko jatkaa?
The man with his sleeves
tucked with green
comes telling me his money is his body
As you get freed from jail
with the paying of the bail
For free being is the point
talks the rastafari and smokes a joint
While crying the widow runs in
shouting soon it’ll be raining
And the wind steers the car into the tar pit
An inch too far and his soul is flying to the stars
Like the Walker who faught
and Earl who followed
now Alexander’s left on his own
He learnt his history
will be his chemistry
And the blood on his hand
is the oil on the road they understand
While the skies are of vultures
and the deserts are the culture
And the seed that has grown
has now grown too old to be sown
At last the way is clear, at last no need to fear
The race of success in the sand
Pack you gear, leave nothing that’s dear
The race to rule is at hand
And in the flying dirt they shout the anthem blurt:
The race for a free piece of land
They have the forest, they have the coast
That rises with the smog
They own only what they love the most
As the sea takes the docks
And when it’s time to leave the host
Nothing can fly in the fog
Stuck with the bones of which
they build their only homes that are
the tombs in Gaia’s womb |
Definhel
Tempura
gösplstorm