Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Singing 'Bout The City, artist - The Ark. Album song In Full Regalia, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.2009
Record label: ARK
Song language: English
Singing 'Bout The City |
I was born and raised with the cross in my face |
And a mind that was set for pity |
Not fully grown I was left all alone |
That’s the time I set my eyes on the city |
Where no cold wind sweep and no willow’s weep |
And no singing in the treetops puts a child to sleep |
Where the ghosts and creeps |
Sad-eyed roam the streets |
And the best minds turning tricks |
For that sad and angry fix |
But now I’m through, I’m through, I’m through |
I’m through, I’m through singing 'bout the city |
(Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city) |
I was all knocked down as I came to town |
I was smug as a bug and pretty |
I was led to believe that a little less self-esteem |
Was required to survive in the city |
In the high-end streets where the faces meet |
Who are daring for a sharing on the toilet seats |
But I’ve had my fill of cheap boudoir thrills |
Hallelujah, — I am coming |
Bring the fattened calf and sing |
Now I’m through, I’m through, I’m through |
I’m through, I’m through singing 'bout the city |
(Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city) |
In the summertime in the dry hot town |
Sun is high and ambition is low |
When the sewers seethe there’s no air to breathe |
And when no place feels like home |
In the summertime in the countryside |
Where the birches and long grass grow |
And the small birds sing and the church-bell ring |
And the gentle warm winds blow |
I guess I really should have known |
There’s only one place left to go |
This time I’m really coming home |
I’m gonna spread my wings |
Gonna leave everything |
Far behind that’s unsound and shitty |
I’m free at last, it’s all in the past |
Fooling round like a clown in the city |
Where no pine and spruce lend a home to the moose |
And no brown bears sleep and no rabbits snooze |
In the open wild you get warm and mild |
Turning playboys to the ploughboys |
That they are inside |
Where the green crops grow and the rivers flow |
Where lakes glitter, small birds twitter |
Oh, I sure could think of worse! |
It’s the Springsteen curse but this time it’s in reverse |
Life’s a pity in the city Hell, what does Bruce know about spruce? |
Oh, I’m through, I’m through, I’m through |
I’m through, I’m through, I’m through, I’m through |
I’m through… |
Singing 'bout the city, yeaheah |