You'll never see me trying to raise Cain You'll never see me wear a suit of green There's a slip-road up right ahead Leading to the agragarian But I'm city born and bred Too many car-fumes in my head Just a well-read punk peasant.
But you'd think a country man would understand The devil makes work for idle hands. M5 6-7 pm
And the man who pretends he knows it all Is destined to a Mighty Fall. Gets into your house with cheer, Then proceeds to take all you've got to offer. This is not an autobahn It's an evil roundabout That leads to the Haywain And you'll never see good trains again.
In late 60s, my daddy said to me, You'll never see trams and clogs again. Now they roam the city.
Can these people not understand The devil makes work for idle hands M5 6-7 pm The devil makes work for idle hands.
M5 to the country straight ahead It's stuffed to the gills with crusty brown bread Can they not understand There's nothing worse than a bored man?
M5, 6-7 PMTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
