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

Звук


Интерфейс


Уровень сложности


Акцент



язык интерфейса

ru

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
1
зарегистрироваться / войти
Lyrkit

донат

5$

Lyrkit

донат

10$

Lyrkit

донат

20$

Lyrkit

Или поддержи меня в соц. сетях:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Frank Turner

Our Lady Of The Campfire

 

Our Lady Of The Campfire

(альбом: Poetry Of The Deed - 2009)


Tonight is her night, and the city holds is breath,
caught twixt life and death, as she rolls in from the suburbs,
the garrison flees and the city will burn.
Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
London town trembles at the sight.
Because tonight is her night.
And the youth course through the streets to lay down at her feet,
and she runs a regal eye to choose who lives and decide who dies.
Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
The fearful crowds part ways without a fight.
Corinna rides like Boadicea tonight.
London town trembles at the sight.
She keeps her counsel, smiles when she speaks now, from ear to ear.
She's getting married, or so they tell me, when the spring is here.
She hums a tune from a song she knows from warm summers past,
a song that was sung by kids around campfires in the quiet southwest.

готово

Ты добавил себе все незнакомые слова из этой песни?