Song Of The Snowbird

(альбом: Who Really Cares - 1969)

Highway's made of silver
And the night is made of gold
The watchman at the tower
Won't do what he's been told

Better hide your latent purity
It'll get you nowhere slow
Hold tight to your security
The robber's getting slow

I ride on a freighter
I ride on a freighter
I ride on a freighter, mama
So let the breeze blow
Past the shadow
Of my window

Tell my mama I forgive her
For all she thought she'd done
'Cause it was me, and I would rather
Say you're the last of the ones
To be staying here past winter
When all the people came to see
The snowbird by my window

It was love
It was...
My ride on a snowbird
My ride on a snowbird, mama
My ride on a snowbird
So let the breeze blow
Past the window

By my highways made of silver
And the band is made of gold
The watchman at the tower
He'll do what he is told