On the edge with a gold coin in my pocket* On the edge with a gold poem in my pocket I can tell this air aint't fresh I can tell this air ain't right Jim didn't know what 'treachery' meant We can say to our kids in the morning "The skies were blue" It took me days to fly home It took me days to fly back, and everything was better I can tell this air aint't fresh I can tell this air ain't right Jim didn't know what 'treachery' meant And Jim didn't know what 'treachery' meant An image of you, an image of me In a cabin for two at the edge of the world I will imitate a Lyre bird And you can play me a David song On the edge with a gold coin in my pocket On the edge with a gold poem in my pocket I can tell this air aint't fresh I can tell this air ain't right Jim didn't know what 'treachery' meant And Jim didn't know what 'treachery' meant.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
