So there I am polished heart, throat in full puff I look the part, my wad is packed to reimburse I've yet to re-rehearse many moons spent on lovelines
so much fun His mind wanders to the office His telephone, desk and chair He's been happy with the company They've treated him real fair Think of seven
I wear my cap with pride When swaying side to side Indoors where it be crude Too late to find me shrewd I never lay in doubt When walking from about
I'll promise you a gift worth much more if not sold Half for you and half for me, if I may act so bold I'll promise you a home that money cannot buy
Well, Mrs. Hutchinson, you're looking healthy (Huh) But just in case, here's a pill a remedy Well, Mrs. Hutchinson, this is something That little upset
A cage of my own, this cage is my home And oh, so alone am I From above all around helpless to the sound Of my brother's cry Just leave us alone, we
This is disposable, throw it away This is an animal, don't let it stray That was the past, so leave it behind This is the future, it's all in our mind
He hums a tune through his street My unlatched window, the tune repeats The curb crawling, car winds down to a stop A few seconds mumbled then whisks
The sun shines through the open window The empty side, the shadow?s shallow My arm circles nothing at all My fingers reach to touch the wall Missing
Instrumental
Summer in London, watery sunshine A place in the city where I can go sometimes To get on a red bus and go anywhere See all the sights and not pay the
Buster, he sold the heat with a rock-steady beat Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey you, Don't watch that, watch this Whoa, what? Two pots of gold And
翻訳: エリックB.ラキム. （マッドネス7分）全額支払わ[コールドカットリミックス].
Buster, he sold the heat with a rock-steady beat Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey you, Don't watch that, watch this Whoa, what? Two pots of gold
Wake up, here I go, cram it all down my throat Stomach's so full that I wish I could choke Seven a.m., my head's already in a spin As soon as I'm out
Love it when you give it to me like, shake it til you get your money right, Wild style with the mouth down, growl foul fifty seven bow wow Something
time Up under the bench They say it's all good But I was young Didnt know any better Although I did comp out the bootcamp Fly to give a brotha seven
(Words and Music by Joan Baez) The ship that sails the seven seas Has finally brought me to my knees It's not much to my liking The people standing
