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Whose streets these are I think I know
his house is in the city though
He won't see me stopping here
to watch his streets fill up with snow

My beat up truck must think it's weird
to stop without anything near
Between the streets and worn out brakes
The darkest evening of the year

The engine stalls and begins to shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
of freezing people with no escape

The streets are lovely, dark and deep
but I have promises to keep
and miles to go before I sleep

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.