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

Som


Interface


Nível de dificuldade


Sotaque



Interface de linguagem

pt

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Política de cookies   |   Suporte   |   FAQ
1
cadastre-se / faça login
Lyrkit

doar

5$

Lyrkit

doar

10$

Lyrkit

doar

20$

Lyrkit

E/ou me apoie nas redes sociais. redes:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Dan Fogelberg

The Outlaw

 

The Outlaw

(álbum: High Country Snows - 1985)


Among the possesions of an outlaw of a low class kind
Is this little bottle of French perfume
Taken as a last thought from a drug store in suburbia
He said, "Lady, look what I've got for you."
She said, "Jesse, I don't hardly even know you anymore.
And judging from your grin, you'd think you held up Henry Ford.
And I don't believe I want you a coming 'round here anymore. Ooh."

Jesse, he was hurt, boy, and he left there, and he slammed the door.
And he wandered through the alleyways.
Thinking all the while that she'd be proud of what he stole for her,
And he tried to think of better ways.
Dreaming of a movie that he'd seen one afternoon,
He drew out all his savings and he went and bought a gun.
And he ran right home and stood before his mirror
Acting like a thug, ooh.

He waited for a dark night; he was frightened, boy, the fog rolled in,
As a rich man, he came walking by,
"Hold your hands up high," he cried,
"I've come to make your fortune mine."
But his eyes, they gave him right away,
Jesse dropped the gun and they both stared at to where it lay.
And Jesse asked the man if he'd please leave him in his pain.
And the man tried to forgive him, but there's not much he could say. Ooh.

Among the possessions of an outlaw of a low class kind
Is this little bottle of French perfume
Taken as a last thought from a drugstore in suburbia.
He said, "Lady, look what I've got for you."
"Ah, take it, ah, please take it; I'm tired and I'm poor.
And this crappy French perfume is nothing less than my own soul.
I was feeling half a man; I wanted to feel whole, ooh."
Oooh...ooh,ooh.

feito

Você adicionou todas as palavras desconhecidas dessa música?