The Weather Machine все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

I was walking along on one of those walks you take in the middle of the night. When you feel a little bit out of place and you’d like to get out of sight, but who should stand up in my way but a man with nothing left but bone – and that’s no metaphor, I don’t exaggerate - he said, “I’m Skeleton Jack and these roads are my home.”

Oh rattle my bones. Rattle my bones, the name’s Skeleton Jack.

Well, on his skull he wore a crooked, cracked crown to go with a similar smile. And whenever he talked he did a clattering jig, but despite being dead, Jack had style. He said, “I stole this crown from the Devil, but it stole my soul from me, and now each night I walk these roads one by one, telling passing travelers my story.”

Well rattle my bones. Here comes the story of Skeleton Jack.

Let me go back over Oregon, that little scar is nothin’ in the arms of all the things have yet to come. I’d like to call it no big deal, but we both know I’d be lying. I can never come back if I don’t go. That plan may have been a waste, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t nice. Sometimes you use a sweet lie to get by. Though it’s done me well this place, where there’s a mountain there’s a sky, there’s too much left between to ease my mind. From where we got flowers by the fifth, where we learned back-handed love, where if you come off clever enough you don’t have to cover anything up. And this city’s done me strange, though I’m’s courageous as I came. Well that courage sure is honest but can feel like such a fickle thing. Let me go back over Oregon. That little scar is nothin’ in the arms of all the things have yet to come. I’d like to call it no big deal, but we both know I’d be lying. I can never come back if I don’t go. Now explain to me this affinity for naming all those settlements for things that crop up colorful In spite of all the clouds Like you know what’s there, but don’t look down, there’s a perfect place that’s not quite now, and Jesus has a lot of love but the good book might not let you out. Let me go back over Oregon. That little scar is nothin’ in the arms of all the things have yet to come. I’d like to call it no big deal, but we both know I’d be lying. I can never come back if I don’t go. And that plan may have been a waste, but we’ll make it up some time - I’ll find you when we’ve grown apart enough, Where there’s a candle there’s a light, a shadow dances right behind, saying, “Come to me son, let me test your luck.” From where we got flowers by the fifth, where we learned back-handed love, where if you come off clever enough you don’t have to cover anything up. And this city’s done me strange though I’m’s courageous as I came. Well that courage sure is honest but can feel like such a fickle thing. And explain to me this affinity for naming all those settlements for things that crop up colorful In spite of all the clouds. From the Roses City of my birth, to the golden man stands in a cherry town, to a road-stop named for mountains and for women and their family ties and flowers by the fifth. In spite of all the clouds

I remember all those days
Llike the way i passed a finger through a flame
In a restraunt by the coast
With the seaguls soaring
High and mighty
Coming in for conversation
And crumbs