Barbra Streisand - 07. Don't Rain On My Parade (Barbra Streisand & Other Musical Instruments - 1973) | Текст песни

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• Barbra Streisand
• 07. Don't Rain On My Parade (Barbra Streisand & Other Musical Instruments - 1973)

Don't tell me not to live
just sit and putter,
Life's candy and the sun's
a ball of butter,
Don't bring around a cloud
to rain on my parade.
Don't tell me not to fly,
I've simply got to
If someone takes a spill
It's me and not you.
who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?

I'll march my band out,
I'll beat my drum,
And if I'm fanned out,
Your turn at bat, sir.
At least I didn't fake it.
Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it!

But whether I'm the rose
Of sheer perfection,
Or freckle on the nose
Of life's complexion,
The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye.

I gotta fly once,
I gotta try once,
Only can die once, right, sir?
Ooh, love is juicy,
Juicy, and you'll see
I gotta have my bite, sir!

Get ready for me, love,
'Cause I'm a "comer,"
I simply gotta march,
My heart's a drummer.
Don't bring around a cloud
To rain on my parade!

I'm gonna live and live now,
Get what I want--I know how,
One roll for the whole shebang,
One throw, that bell will go clang,
Eye on the target--and wham--
One shot, one gun shot, and bam--
Hey, Mister Arnstein, here I am!

I'll march my band out,
I'll beat my drum,
And if I'm fanned out,
Your turn at bat, sir,
At least I didn't fake it.
Hat, sir? I guess I didn't make it.

Get ready for me, love,
'Cause I'm a "comer,"
I simply gotta march,
My heart's a drummer.

Nobody, no nobody is gonna rain on my parade!

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