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Front Porch
par
John Hartford
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Paroles
My front porch looks right at your back porch At the side of your house sits my car Your laundry hangs there by my window In the sun that shines down in our yard When I come home I see you a leaving When I am leaving you're just pulling in At times I could reach out and touch you But I am not even sure of your name I saw you last round about midnight From the front porch you seem so care-free Like you never could ever be happy To live in the country with me I came up here hunting for riches Of fortune and fame I had heard But too long I've stared at your back porch And now I'm a slave to your world When the hair on my head turns to silver My feet and my hands old and sore I'll prop my old chair on the front porch And gaze at your old kitchen door
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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