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
Clutch

White's Ferry

 

White's Ferry

(album: From Beale Street To Oblivion - 2007)


"Every once in a while I go out on a drive through some old country roads in Maryland and Virginia. One of these routes goes over the Potomac via White's Ferry. This song is about some of the sights and experiences of one particular drive in September of 2006. Bryan Hinkley from Never Got Caught does the duel lead with Tim on this one, as well as wee tasty bits throughout."

Only the dirt I do believe.
As memory vanishes among the leaves.
Wizard of tickets is always glad to charge a pilgrim's fare.
Jubilee's generally early. Let's take the country air.
Mistreating granite, limestone, and clay. It's a shameful soil.
But all grows well on the floodplain tract if you can afford the toil.
Cradled in ivy, we will allow
the moss to prosper upon our brows.
Boxer rebellion, the Holy Child. They all pay their rent.
But none together can testify to rhythm of a road well bent.
Saddles and zip codes, passports and gates, the Jones' keep.
In August the water is trickling, in April it's furious deep.
Wizard of tickets is always glad to charge a pilgrim's fare.
Jubilee's generally early. Let's take the country air.
Mistreating granite, limestone, and clay. It's a shameful soil.
But all grows well on the floodplain tract if you can afford the toil.
Only the dirt I do believe.
Divinity vanishes among the leaves.

fait

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