Papa Kruta - On Days Like These | Текст песни

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• Papa Kruta
• On Days Like These

Walk, till the feet are tired
Peel the clothes from your skin
Wait for the breeze to arrive
Walk, though your feet may hurt
On days like this you forgive
The cold and maybe worse
And the sun folds out
On the river and shines
It fades in and out of sight
Between the roofs and sky
For all is good,
And all feels fine
These streets have got a hold on me
And I’ll call them mine.

Drink, throw out some words
To your health or the future
Or whichever fails you first
Drink, though the music’s bad,
Fill the glass to the brim and
Forget how many you’ve had
Lose track of time
And all you’ve spent
Wash the smoke from your hair
And do it all again
For all is good
And all feels fine
Sing along out of tune
And blame it all on the wine

Rest, till the morning calls
Tune out the sound of music
Which hums through the walls
Rest, for the body’s tired
Wake to a stirring or a
Brushing on your side
And the sheets are creased
And the pillow’s warm
You list all the reasons to leave
But they all fall short
For all is good
And all feels fine
There’s a girl who calls me hers
And I’ll call her mine

So, on days like these,
Take what you can or whatever’s left,
Sometimes that’s all you need

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