You were sweet and innocent And only seventeen seventeen A beautiful summer’s day And so to church you rode away
Birds singing in the sky Philosophers wondering why While vagabonds such as I Sing our songs and cry
And vagabonds not like me Stare lustfully at you through the trees They raped you took your life With a cudgel and a knife
Little boys’ blues What can we do We might come from Hell But we’re too young to tell Little boys’ blues What can we do We might come from Hell But we’re too young to tell
Found your body cold and still Abused amongst the daffodils God you allow this deed Do you condone this greed
A father and a mother’s grief Are told but without release And when they moved the young girl’s head The soil it bled
A church built where she died How her mother and father cried A church built on belief A church built on grief
Little boys’ blues What can we do We might come from Hell But we’re too young to tell Little boys’ blues What can we do We might come from Hell But we’re too young to tell
Little boys’ blues Little boys’ blues Little boys’ blues Little boys’ bluesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
