In eighteen hundred and forty-one. Me corduroy breeches I put on. Me corduroy breeches I put on. To work upon the railway, the railway. I'm weary of the railway.
Below the Pont Mirabeau. Slow flows the Seine. And all our love's together. Must I recall again. Joy would always follow. After pain. . Hands holding hands.
I'm walkin' down Roppongi. The night is hot and smoggy. I drink a little coffee. A sake and a beer. . I run into a ginja man. He speaks but I don't understand.
The night stank of diesel. A stranger came to town. A cold wind blowing. And the rain pouring down. . Street lights flicker. And the power lines moan.
Across the dark and dusty plain. Where scars of old dry rivers run. Night unfolds, a coal black shroud. Across the hard and stony ground. . Distant stars shining bright.
In the days when I was courtin'. I was seldom done resortin'. In the ale house and the playhouse. And many's the house between. . I told me brother Seamus.
I dreamt we were standing. By the banks of the Thames. Where the cold gray waters ripple. In the misty morning light. . Held a match to your cigarette.
Oh Kitty, my darling, remember. That the doom will be mine if I stay. 'Tis far better to part, though it's hard to. Than to rot in their prison away. 'Tis far better to part, though it's hard to.
Life's a bitch, then you die, black Hell. Hell's Ditch, naked howling freedom. The killer's hands are bound with chains. . At six o'clock, it starts to rain.
In eighteen hundred and forty-six. On March the eighteenth day. We hoisted our colors to the top of the mast. . And for Greenland sailed away, brave boys.
Sometimes it seems like a beautiful dream. The girl from the Wadi Hammamat. Lovely as a green parakeet. . I awoke alone again. In the desert of my dreams.
I am francisco vasquez garcia. I am welcome to almeria. We have sin gas and con leche. We have fiesta and feria. We have the song of the cochona. We have brandy and half corona.
I've seen those signs a million times, the chill that clouds your eyes. The light that shines black as a coal, deep down in the mind. And I'm hungry, and I'm dying of thirst.
The bright lights are calling me. The bright lights are calling me. When the world is dark and cold. And I'm heading down the road. The bright lights are calling me.
Thanks and praises, thanks to Jesus. I bet on the bottle of smoke. I went to hell and to the races. To bet on the bottle of smoke. . The day being clear, the sky being bright.
The dawn shines her light to scare off the night. The sun from his slumber is woken. And the bells are ringing out as the town crier shouts. Words too strong to be spoken.
It was Christmas Eve babe in the drunk tank. An old man said to me, won't see another one. And then he sang a song the Rare Old Mountain Dew. I turned my face away and dreamed about you.
The need to realize. Shot, shot, shot, blank. Staring down the barrel of my arm. Shot, shot, shot, dead. It's over drawn black. Shot, shot, shot, red.