Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Klang


Schnittstelle


Schwierigkeitsgrad


Akzent



Schnittstellensprache

de

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
1
registrieren / anmelden
Lyrkit

spenden

5$

Lyrkit

spenden

10$

Lyrkit

spenden

20$

Lyrkit

Und/oder mich im sozialen Bereich unterstützen. Netzwerke:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Ani DiFranco

Coming Up

 

Coming Up

(Album: Not A Pretty Girl - 1995)


our father who art in a penthouse
sits in his 37th floor suite
and swivels to gaze down
at the city he made me in
he allows me to stand and
sollicit graffiti until
he needs the land I stand on
I in my darkened threshold
am pawing through my pockets
the receipts, the bus schedules
the matchbook phone numbers
the urgent napkin poems
all of which laundering has rendered
pulpy and strange
loose change and a key
ask me
go ahead, ask me if I care
I got the answer here
I wrote it down somewhere
I just gotta find it
I just gotta find it

somebody and their spraypaint got too close
somebody came on too heavy
now look at me made ugly
by the drooling letters
I was better off alone
ain't that the way it is
they don't know the first thing
but you don't know that
until they take the first swing
my fingers are red and swollen from the cold
I'm getting bold in my old age
so go ahead, try the door
it doesn't matter anymore
I know the weakhearted are strongwilled
and we are being kept alive
until we're killed
he's up there the ice
is clinking in his glass
I don't ask
I just empty my pockets and wait
it's not fate
it's just circumstance
I don't fool myself with romance
I just live
phone number to phone number
dusting them against my thighs
in the warmth of my pockets
which whisper history incessantly
asking me
where were you

I lower my eyes
wishing I could cry more
and care less,
yes it's true,
I was trying to love someone again,
I was caught caring,
bearing weight

but I love this city, this state
this country is too large
and whoever's in charge up there
had better take the elevator down
and put more than change in our cup
or else we
are coming
up

Erledigt

Hast du alle unbekannten Wörter aus diesem Lied hinzugefügt?