Tuesday, August 28, 2007

lyrices

I'm an engine driverOn a long run, on a long runWould I work beside herShe's a long one, such a long oneAnd if you don't love me let me goAnd if you don't love me let me goI'm a country linemanOn a high line, on a high lineSo will be my grandsonThere are powerlines in our bloodlinesAnd if you don't love me let me goAnd if you don't love me let me goAnd I am a writer, writer of fictionsI am the heart that you call homeAnd I've written pages upon pagesTrying to rid you from my bonesMy bonesMy bonesI'm a money lenderI have fortunes upon fortunesTake my hand for tenderI am tortured, ever torturedAnd if you don't love me let me goAnd if you don't love me let me goAnd I am a writer, writer of fictionsI am the heart that you call homeAnd I've written pages upon pagesTrying to rid you from my bonesI am a writer, I am all that you have homeHomeAnd I've written pages upon pagesTrying to rid you from my bonesMy bonesMy bones(And if you don't love me let me go)And if you don't love me let me go(And if you don't love me let me go)And if you don't love me let me go

1 Comments:

Blogger Ocean said...

Hi Ashkavand,

Omidvaram khoob va khosh bashi.

Take care

6:01 AM  

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