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

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Rosanne Cash

8 Gods Of Harlem

 

8 Gods Of Harlem

(album: She Remembers Everything - 2018)


[Rosanne Cash:]
Rain falls on the paramedics but they do not go inside
The street is where it all went down, the street is where he lies
The mother in her universe feels nothing but the pain
The son who was a baby but who will never be a man

[Rosanne Cash, Kris Kristofferson & Elvis Costello:]
So we pray to the God of Broken Class
We pray to the God of Gunfire and Regret
We pray to the God of Collateral Children
We pray to them all, the eight Gods of Harlem

[Kris Kristofferson:]
Son was on his best behavior, shit was on his shoes
Blood was on the handlebars, nothing on the news
No one saw it coming, no one was to blame
Daddy's got a broken heart, he'll never be the same

[Rosanne Cash, Kris Kristofferson & Elvis Costello:]
So we pray to the God of Old Illusions
We pray to the God of Wasted Chances
We pray to the God of Dreams and Roses
We pray to them all, the eight Gods of Harlem

[Elvis Costello:]
A girl falls down in hysterics
Is she laughing? Is she crying? Is she living? Is he dying?
Undone [?]
Who raise the glasses higher
Sulfur from the underground
Erosion, scalding steam
Her brother in a picture frame
And someone starts to scream

[Rosanne Cash, Kris Kristofferson & Elvis Costello:]
So we pray to the God of Washed Out Paper Broken Hearts
We pray to the God, the last chance is for rage and vengeance
We pray to the God, beat the drum slowly, neatly folded up and hidden Old Glory
We pray to them all, the eight Gods of Harlem

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?