At night they would go walking 'Til the breaking of the day The morning’s for sleeping Through the dark streets They’d go searching To see God in their own way Save the nightime for your weeping
Your weeping…
Singing la la lala la la ehh And the night over London, lay.
So we rode down to the river Where Victorian ghosts pray For the curse is to be broken We’ll go underneath the arches Where the witches aren’t the same There are ghost towns in the ocean
The ocean...
Singing la la lala la la ehh And the night over London, lay.
God is in the houses And God is in my head And all the Cemeteries of London I see God come in my garden But I don’t know what he said For my heart it wasn’t open
Not open…
Singing la la lala la la ehh And the night over London, lay. There’s no light over London today.
3 comentarios:
Que le jodan a la gran bretaña.
Valiente mierda de tiempo, de comida, y menos mal que aún no me he curzado a la puta de Mary Poppins.
me ha encantado este tema =) voy a tener que empezar a interesarme más por estos sujetos
Como diría alguien:
"Sí, Londres, ya sabes. Pastel de riñones, mala comida, peor clima, y esa Mary Poppins de los cojones. Ya sabes, Londres."
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