When I was a child, my mother would tuck me into bed And each night as she kissed me, these are the words that she said: She said don't go to bed with stranger, don't play with the dead Always keep your wits sharp, like an axe inside the shed
When I was just a school a schoolboy, my father, he spoke unto me He said, boychick, my son, don't trust anyone, and remember that nothing is free And the world is full of strangers. The world is full of dread. The world is full of sharpned wits, and millions of tears you will shed.
When I was a young man, my professor at University said: Advice is corrupting Don't ever be trusting Don't show your emotion Human suffering is an ocean And it's dark at the bottom of the sea
And there's no such thing as a stranger We're all equally backwards and wrong Sharpen axes not wits Bones are broken by sticks And you'll never be free 'till you're strong
Well young men grow older And the world gets colder Though it never was warm to begin Don't let down your guard For the reaper works hard And he will not take pause till you're dead.
Well, now I am old and I'm rusty My troubles like sand on the beach They can't be calculated I always have waited For something just out of reach.
And I to myself am a stranger My heart is of iron and lead My world is resounding With miseries abounding There's only one thing to be said.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
