Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Clara, artist - Scott Walker. Album song The Drift, in the genre Иностранный рокDate of issue: 07.05.2006
Record label: 4AD
Song language: English
Clara |
| Birds |
| Birds |
| This is not a cornhusk doll |
| Dipped in blood in the moonlight |
| Like what happen in America |
| This is us |
| Our eyesides snagged |
| Dipped in mob in the daylight |
| Like what happen in America |
| The breasts are still heavy |
| The legs long and straight |
| The upper lip remains short |
| The teeth are too small |
| The eyeside is green |
| The hair long and black |
| Still coming through |
| Still coming through |
| She knows this room |
| She can navigate it in the dark |
| She entered the Palazzo at night by a side door |
| To ascend to a lift in the upper floor |
| She lies on the bed |
| Looking up not yet seeing |
| The signs of the zodiac painted in gold |
| On the blue vaulted ceiling |
| His enormous eyes as he arrives |
| Coming nearer in the surrounding darkness |
| His strange beliefs about the moon |
| Its influence upon men of affairs |
| The danger of its cold light on your face |
| While you were sleeping |
| She’ll eclipse it with her head |
| Stroke him 'til he sleeps |
| Until he has nothing to do among men of affairs |
| Sometime before dawn |
| Her bare feet cross the floor |
| She gazes from the window |
| At the fountain in the courtyard |
| Sometimes I feel like a swallow |
| A swallow which by some mistake |
| Has gotten into an attic |
| And knocks its head against the walls in terror |
| This is not a rabbit skinned |
| With a body of silver |
| Like what happen in America |
| This is not a terrapin |
| With its shell torn away |
| Like what happen in America |
| The breasts are still heavy |
| The legs long and straight |
| The upper lip remains short |
| The teeth are too small |
| The eyeside is green |
| The hair long and black |
| Still coming through |
| Still coming through |
| The mood soon changed |
| In the clear morning air |
| A man came up towards the body |
| And poked it with a stick |
| It rocked swiftly |
| And twisted around at the end of the rope |
| Finer than a hair from every side |
| Finer than a hair |
| Birds |
| Birds |
| This is just a cornhusk doll |
| Dipped in blood in the moonlight |
| This is just a cornhusk doll |
| This morning in my room |
| A little swallow was trapped |
| It flew around desperately |
| Until it fell exhausted on my bed |
| I picked it up |
| So as not to frighten it |
| I opened the window |
| Then I opened my hand |