I am a crooked man And I've walked a crooked mile Night, the shameless widow Doffed her weeds, in a pile The stars all winked at me They shamed a child Your funeral, my trial
A thousand Marys lured me To feathered beds and fields of glover Bird with crooked wing cast It's wicked shadow over A bauble moon did mock And trinket stars did smile Your funeral, my trial
Here I am, little lamb... Let all the bells in whoredom ring All the crooked bitches that she was (Mongers of pain) Saw the moon Become a fang Your funeral, my trialTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
