Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Stranger, artist - The Burning Hell. Album song Public Library, in the genre Альтернатива
Date of issue: 31.03.2016
Record label: BB*ISLAND
Song language: English
The Stranger |
It was a wet and slishy-slushy winter day |
When the strangers came to stay |
A man in black from head to toe with a lady by his side |
I knew she was a lady, I had a lady-spotting guide |
He said pardon, if you please, our train has run out of steam |
And left us in this lonesome village for the evening it would seem |
We looked for a hotel but we were told they’d all closed down |
Due to the economic crisis that we’ve heard so much about |
I took pity on the soaking strangers standing in the melting snow |
I said mi casa es su casa, that’s Spanish for make yourself at home |
He said I speak a little Spanish, though my second language is Français |
Et vous êtes très gentil, merci pour votre hospitalité. |
I said no need to merci me, just come in out of the cold |
Tell me a little of your travels on the icy iron road |
We sat down around the fire and as I hung up their overcoats |
He began to tell their story with this sentence, and I quote: |
The words we speak here are top secret, meant for private ears |
But our lives are in grave danger from a band of privateers |
So we must take you in our confidence, we are in mortal fear |
Of dying |
I then figured them for bandits or confidence artistes |
When I saw the two-tone collar I knew he was a ska fan or a priest |
He noticed me notice and said I observe your observation |
Of the sartorial memorial of my spiritual vocation |
I wear this habit out of habit, my service has been shoddy |
As you can maybe guess I can’t resist the temptations of the body |
To my ex-boss Old Jeezy this is all yesterday’s news |
But yes this lady is my lover and I am her lover too |
It all started last Shrove Tuesday when as per my holy mandate |
I was munching on a luncheon at the International House of Pancakes |
I ran out of maple syrup so I approached the nearest patrons |
A gorilla of a man and a pretty lady eating eggs and bacon |
She passed me her maple syrup and as our fingers briefly brushed |
I felt a feeling in my face I’d never felt, yes I blushed |
My heart began ballooning and my brow began to sweat |
Looking deep into the eyeballs of this beautiful brunette |
Moments later we were tangled in my cassock in the can |
She said I love a man in uniform I said I hope this is god’s plan |
She said her name was Ann I said call me Father Daniel or maybe just |
Dan |
She grabbed my hand, said Dan I gotta blow this popsicle stand, she meant the |
IHOP |
We were running out the back door before I yelled out Jesus and I stopped |
I felt something sticky on my palms I was afraid it was stigmata |
But it was just a little maple so we jumped in her Miata |
We sped off for the mountains and extramarital shenanigans |
We stayed up til dawn going over and over and over the plan again |
We’d run away to Monaco to elope on her uncle’s yacht |
We’d start a new life in the principality with the money that she’d got |
But her ex-boyfriend the gorilla from the pancake house got wind |
By the threatiness of his death threats I could sense he felt chagrined |
He tracked me down at the Riviera as I was about to say I do |
With a band of bandit buddies from his criminally misspent youth |
They opened fire on our wedding but we escaped into the sea |
When the coast was clear we caught the first train out but now you see |
I know they can’t be far behind, these goons are gonna gun me down |
We’re like sitting duckish loverbirds in this extremely safe feeling town |
The worst part is the gorilla has been ordained as a deacon |
And he’s got some spiritual spies supporting the havoc he’s been wreaking |
A cruel clergy of crime out for blood and I’m speaking of |
Mine |
There was an awkward silence as the ex-priest finished talking |
His fiancee excused herself to change into a drier pair of stockings |
I got up from my chair and I walked over to the cabinet |
I was looking for a couple of holy relics I remembered that I had in it |
Then I turned with a crucifix-shaped pistol my hand and my zucchetto on my head |
His eyes widened as I crossed myself, and I raised the gun and said |
My son, sometimes we search for safety and we find only greater danger |
So let this be a lesson to you, never talk to strangers |