|
|
Lost In The Flood
Bruce Springsteen
The ragamuffiin gunner is returnin' home like a hungry runaway He walks through town all alone He must be from the fort he hears the high school girls say His countryside's burnin' with wolfman fairies dressed in drag for homicide The hit and run, plead sanctuary, 'neath a holy stone they hide They're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood Sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud And I said, "Hey, gunner man, that's quicksand, that's quicksand that ain't mud Have you thrown your senses to the war or did you lose them in the flood ?"
That pure American brother, dullraces Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight He rides 'er low on the hip, on the side he's got Bound For Glory in red, white and blue flash paint. He leans on the hood telling racing stories, the kids call him Jimmy The Saint Well that blaze and noise boy, he's gunnin' that bitch loaded to blastin' point He rides head first into a hurricane and disappears into a point And there's nothin' left but some blood where the body fell That is, nothin' left that you could sell just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman's farewell And I said "Hey kid, you think that's oil ? Man, that ain't oil that's blood." I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that storm or was he just lost in the flood ? Eighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts whisper in the air Some storefront incarnation of Maria, she's puttin' on me the stare and Bronx's best apostle stands with his hand on his own hardware
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
תודה, המערכת תבדוק את הקליפ ותוסיף אותו למאגר
|
|
© זכויות היוצרים שמורות למחברים
|
|
|
|
|
|