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Текст песни Buck 65 - Riverbed 2

Buck 65 - Riverbed 2 слова песни

The river itself feeds on soulsThe suicides, the ones who let go of the controlsLike the woman whose beauty they couldn`t replaceThe morgue even made a plaster cast of her faceThere`s at least one a week, more women than menFor some reason or other, it changes by seasonIt sometimes has nightmares, which truly is frighteningWhen the sky becomes filled with bouquets of lighteningRaindrops seeping into the letter box while I`m sleepingMakes it seem like those who wrote me were weepingThe river`s emotional with waves made of mercurySometimes brutal, sometimes nurturingIt rocks me to sleep with oscillations of anguishIt whispers its secrets but in its own languageIt leaves me to languish, it breaks all of my promisesIt threatens my premises, it`s my friend and my nemesisMy houseboat is well suited for finer affairsI think, it just needs a few minor repairsIt`s like a lawnchair chapel, to make an analogyMoss at the waterline, skirted with algaeHeld together with the help of nothing but trustThe chimney and water tank is covered with rustShutters cover windows, some of which are stained glassAll the way around the deck is a railing of plain brassUnpolished and pretty, Norweigan designFrom the front there`s a clothes line reaching behindTo the back where the anchor and gang plank hang outThere`s a chance you might see two or three pairs of pants waving in the windThe inside is wooden, by every means reinforced, all around by heavy beamsLow ceilings and oil lamps, candles and incenseA great big bed that would be fit for a princessPot bellied stove, transistor radioRoll top desk, this is the way to goA person can dream here and write with impunityThe sunlight is proper, there is endless opportunityThe views are inspiring, bare and chameleonReflections and shadows play on the ceilingTroubles are handled with propriety and no delayAll I have to do is pull the anchor up and float away

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