Langue   

The 33rd of August

Mickey Newbury
Langue: anglais


Mickey Newbury


Today, there's no salvation, the band's packed up and gone,
Left me standing with my penny in my hand.
There's a big crowd at the station where the blind man sings his songs,
But he can see what they can't understand.

It's the thirty-third of August and I'm finally touching down
Eight days from Sunday finds me Saturday bound.

Once I stumbled through the darkness, tumbled to my knees
A thousand voices screaming in my brain.
Woke up in a squad car, busted down for vagrancy,
Outside my cell as sure as hell, it looked like rain.

It's the thirty-third of August and I'm finally touching down
Eight days from Sunday finds me Saturday bound.

But now I've got my dangerous feelings under lock and chain,
Guess I killed my violent nature with a smile.
Though the demons danced and sang their song within my fevered brain,
Not all my God-like thoughts, Lord, were defiled.

It's the thirty-third of August and I'm finally touching down
Eight days from Sunday finds me Saturday bound.




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