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Well Of The Blues
par
Jerry Jeff Walker
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Paroles
Amoeba man, he runs from hot, wraps up from the cold Old evil man, he worries a lot 'bout how he's gonna save his soul Easy man, maybe he like whiskey, silly girl, maybe she got caught And old lazy bones, maybe he stays home, saw more than he sought The well of the blues - oh, it never runs dry It never gets full enough of whiskey and rye The well of the blues... Preacher man bad-mouths the bottle and Mama pours it down the drain Old grandpa likes to keep it within reach, it eases his favorite pain And all year long old teetotallers' songs would echo grandpa's fall But on the holidays everything's okay, even judges forget the laws The well of the blues… Well, there's natural-born winners and losers out lookin' for the old time thrill They get the Indians' luck, the burnin' cup, stuck with a whiskey still 'til it fills the head and makes the bed spin like a wildcat drill Borin' a hole down deep in your soul that only a bottle can fill The well of the blues…
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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