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

Son


Interface


Niveau de difficulté


Accent



langue de l'interface

fr

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Politique de cookies   |   Soutien   |   FAQ
1
s'inscrire / se connecter
Lyrkit

faire un don

5$

Lyrkit

faire un don

10$

Lyrkit

faire un don

20$

Lyrkit

Et/Ou soutenez-moi sur les réseaux sociaux. réseaux:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Soul Asylum

Nice Guys (Don't Get Paid)

 

Nice Guys (Don't Get Paid)

(album: And The Horse They Rode In On - 1990)


Well they packed up their violin cases ??
Hopped in a big black Studebaker, they were acting pretty scary
No one talked as they synchronized their watches
And they drove past a train station

The train rolled out with a passenger car
Filled with retired millionaires and movie stars
?? coats
?? and that would be all she wrote

And the gangsters, cowboys, gypsies, and freewheelers
Sold out their trades to become drug dealers
There ain't no money in doing things straight
Your community thanks you, business is good, and nice guys don't get paid

Outside the train window fast as he could ride
Was a kid on a horse with a head full of lies
And the tears of excitement couldn't put out the fire in his eyes
For the house he was riding to burglarize

All through the house they were dancing and singing
An extended family with fiddlers and magicians
A juggler and a chemist who'd invent potion
to pacify all the killers and rapist

The chemist died in the burglary and they sold the prescription
For a case of cheap red wine to a traveling salesman
In a three-wheeled jalopy; he bought and sold potions
To the city that looked over the ocean

And he sold the last drop, it was big with the rich kids
And soon the city would be crawling with addicts
And back rooms, dark allies, basements and attics
(When?) a fly is trapped in a spider's web (but a bat's got the spider?)

And no one knows what's going on
But you've gotta show up for yourself at the end of the day
And nice guys don't get paid
Nice guys don't get paid

Now all the hopeless romantics are wearing white collars
(Upstanding assassins?) cleaning filthy dollars
Car-jacking fanatic

fait

Avez-vous ajouté tous les mots inconnus de cette chanson ?