He's a wounded animal
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He lives in a matchbox
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He's a wounded animal
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And he's been coming around here
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He's a dying breed
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He's a dying breed
|
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His daughter is twenty years of snow falling
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She's twenty years of strangers looking into each other's eyes
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She's twenty years of clean
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She never truly hated anyone or anything
|
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She's a dying breed
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She's a dying breed
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She says I'd prefer the moss
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I'd prefer the mouth
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A baby of the swamps
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A baby of the south
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I'm twenty years of clean
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And I never truly hated anyone or anything
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Twenty years of clean
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Twenty years of clean
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But I got to get me out of here
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This place is full of dirty old men
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And the navigators with their mappy maps
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And moldy heads and pissing on sugarcubes
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But I got to get me out of here
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This place is full of dirty old men
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And the navigators with their mappy maps
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And moldy heads and pissing on sugarcubes
|
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While you stare at your boots
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And the words float out like holograms
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And the words float out like holograms
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And the words float out like holograms
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They say, feel the waltz, feel the waltz
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Come on, baby, baby, now feel the waltz
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Feel the waltz, feel the waltz
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Come on, baby, baby, now feel the waltz
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20 Years Of Snow
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| Regina Spektor |
