segunda-feira, março 14, 2005

Às vezes isto não me sai da cabeça

If I should fall from grace with God
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
But the angels won't receive me

Let me go, boys
Let me go, boys
Let me go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry

Bury me at sea
Where no murdered ghost can haunt me
If I rock upon the waves
Then no corpse can lie upon me

It's coming up three, boys
Keeps coming up three, boys
Let them go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry

Pogues

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