The Residents. - Kaw-Liga. | Текст песни

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• The Residents.
• Kaw-Liga.

Poor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old Kaw-Liga, he don't know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.

Kaw-Liga was a wooden Indian, standin' by the door
He felt in love with and Indian maid over in the antique
store
Just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no

He always wore his Sunday feathers and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids
And hoped some day he'd talk
Stubborn to never show a sign
'Cause his heart was made of knotty pine

Kaw-Liga was a lonely Indian, never went nowhere
His heart was set on the Indian maid with the the coal
black hair
Just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no

Then one day a wealthy customer bought the Indian maid
And took her oh so very far away
Stands there just as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree

Poor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old Kaw-Liga, he don't know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.

Poor old Kaw-Liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old Kaw-Liga, he don't know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.

Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.
Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.

Kaw-Liga, that poor old wooden head.


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