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letras de
The Beautiful South
POCKETS
0 opinión
Letra y Significado de
POCKETS,
The Beautiful South
Significados y Opiniones (
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Letra
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Envia tu opinión de POCKETS
Envia tu opinión de POCKETS
(heaton/rotheray)
here comes pockets
his trousers hold a thousand deadly sins
the maddest things we ever found in bins
he clutches them and looks at you and grins
Here comes pockets
the children wary of what they may contain
the linen may have changed, the contents same
a trouser-treasure island with no name
And socially at the platform that the timetable forgot
picking up used tickets in a station of have-nots
when you're on that train of thought
you pass some pretty funky stops
when you're on that train of thought
you pass some pretty funky stops
that's the pocket, let him be
that's the pocket, let him be
Here comes pockets
picking up the things we cannot see
a bicycle, a dame, a christmas tree
things of no value to you or me
Here comes pockets
reduced through history to just a crawl
history turns the tall into the small
but natural born trawlers love to trawl
And the guitar of his dreams hangs upon some wall
or laying underneath the staircase in a hall
we can carry dreams but we can't hold them all
that's why we learn the blues before we actually fall
that's the pocket, let him be
that's the pocket, let him be
And he's clinging on to hope
like the oak tree to the gale
'cause finding one love letter in a sky high jumble sale
is one single reason, why the pocket will not fail
Corregir Letra
Corregir Letra
(heaton/rotheray) here comes pockets his trousers hold a thousand deadly sins the maddest things we ever found in bins he clutches them and looks at you and grins Here comes pockets the children wary of what they may contain the linen may have changed, the contents same a trouser-treasure island with no name And socially at the platform that the timetable forgot picking up used tickets in a station of have-nots when you're on that train of thought you pass some pretty funky stops when you're on that train of thought you pass some pretty funky stops that's the pocket, let him be that's the pocket, let him be Here comes pockets picking up the things we cannot see a bicycle, a dame, a christmas tree things of no value to you or me Here comes pockets reduced through history to just a crawl history turns the tall into the small but natural born trawlers love to trawl And the guitar of his dreams hangs upon some wall or laying underneath the staircase in a hall we can carry dreams but we can't hold them all that's why we learn the blues before we actually fall that's the pocket, let him be that's the pocket, let him be And he's clinging on to hope like the oak tree to the gale 'cause finding one love letter in a sky high jumble sale is one single reason, why the pocket will not fail
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