Henry James, sailed into the night
Such a poor vessel, such a lonely face
He had the courage, but didn’t have the knowledge
So he drowned
Madam waltzed into the room
Such an angry dress, in a beautiful saloon
Oh my, oh my my my
And it’s a slow walk, back into the night
On Fridays I get paid to forget what I’ve done
On Sundays I change, I turn a different man
I play cross harp, and I play guitar with the local band
A sad, sad story, true it is, but I’ve got no other one to tell
And this is how it is, and this is how it goes
And it’s a slow walk…
Henry James, last time we spoke
You were walking this floor, up and down
Staring at the train, that’s taking her away
Into your heart, and nothing more
And it’s a slow walk, back into the night
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário