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口音
界面语言
1
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Indian Rope Man
Fog dangling thick Can't see the
right road Streets are sick, The
eight day mill It might grind slow, but it grinds fine Indian rope man, while looking on Tells common clay he's heavenly born Retired layman looks on in scorn, With a
transplanted heart Kiss him quick, he has to part. Yeah… yeah Indian rope man sees the
times, Splitting loose the
edge of minds Catching losers in his line, in his line, yeah Kiss him quick, he has to part. Yeah… yeah Indian rope man flexes his eye, Dissolving the
fog Revealing the
lie Indian rope man holds my trick in his heart, yeah Kiss him quick, he has to part Yeah… yeah
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