Peter Hammill: Edge Of The Road
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Peter Hammill: Edge Of The Road
The lady was in waiting
for whatever story might unfold
anticipating that somehow base metal would turn into gold
yeh, she was always looking for a brighter spot,
eager to tap into the motherlode
at the edge of the road.
A world of separation,
treasuring each pleasure and each pain
distance is arching between them,
a rainbow, no gold in the frame
until the boy with a smile like forget-me-nots
will finally come in from the rain.
But he's out there still:
in the hourglass a sandstorm has stripped his sails,
only wanting to fill up his pockets
with the dust of all the bygone trails.
Someday he'll make his way home.
But will the man of the moment finally make himself known
and lay down his load
at the edge of the road?
The woman was in waiting
less in expectation than in hope;
maybe he'd come to his senses in a little while
if she just paid out plaits of flaxen rope.
But he never will,
in his heart there's the murmur of an alien disease,
waking up to the chill of the knowledge
that his travel's brought him to his knees.
Nowhere is safe from all harm;
so will the man of her memory fall finally into her arms
(will the man of her memory be charmed?)
before he explodes
at the edge of the road?
All is suddenly abandon,
all his planned accommodation failed,
all his actions and reactions are random,
hot on the scent of a stone-cold trail.
And though she burns a candle to his memory
all of her patience was bound to fail
for he's out there still
with a thousand-mile stare falling on his face,
chasing after a thrill
that'll take him out beyond all sense of time and place.
Head on into the unknown,
here's the man chasing mystery finally missing his own.
But that's how it goes
at the edge of the road.
There's a cutting edge to the road
at the end of the road,
at the edge of the road.
for whatever story might unfold
anticipating that somehow base metal would turn into gold
yeh, she was always looking for a brighter spot,
eager to tap into the motherlode
at the edge of the road.
A world of separation,
treasuring each pleasure and each pain
distance is arching between them,
a rainbow, no gold in the frame
until the boy with a smile like forget-me-nots
will finally come in from the rain.
But he's out there still:
in the hourglass a sandstorm has stripped his sails,
only wanting to fill up his pockets
with the dust of all the bygone trails.
Someday he'll make his way home.
But will the man of the moment finally make himself known
and lay down his load
at the edge of the road?
The woman was in waiting
less in expectation than in hope;
maybe he'd come to his senses in a little while
if she just paid out plaits of flaxen rope.
But he never will,
in his heart there's the murmur of an alien disease,
waking up to the chill of the knowledge
that his travel's brought him to his knees.
Nowhere is safe from all harm;
so will the man of her memory fall finally into her arms
(will the man of her memory be charmed?)
before he explodes
at the edge of the road?
All is suddenly abandon,
all his planned accommodation failed,
all his actions and reactions are random,
hot on the scent of a stone-cold trail.
And though she burns a candle to his memory
all of her patience was bound to fail
for he's out there still
with a thousand-mile stare falling on his face,
chasing after a thrill
that'll take him out beyond all sense of time and place.
Head on into the unknown,
here's the man chasing mystery finally missing his own.
But that's how it goes
at the edge of the road.
There's a cutting edge to the road
at the end of the road,
at the edge of the road.
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Peter Hammill: Edge Of The Road
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Teksty piosenek
-
Miłość jest ślepa
Sanah
„Kochanie mnie to jak pory roku Po miesiącach mroku Słońce świeci zza chmur Kochanie mnie to poza do skoku Nad przepaścią głęboką Potem już tylko w dół Kochanie mnie jak zima w pergoli Mró”
-
Genziara
Genzie
„mam pewność siebie, to praca nie dar oni mi piszą, że ja to mam fart przeżyłam tsunami, hejtu tyle fal nie mogłam już więcej dać, z siebie wiem, wiem najlepiej co na mnie stać jak gwiazda na nieb”
-
100 BPM - feat. Bletka
Kizo
„Nad miastem unosi się dym Dziś każdy porusza się w tańcu I serce wybija nam rytm Nie braknie nam promieni słońca Gdy mieni się golden hour Którego nie dotykasz końca Chce z Tobą tańczyć jak nikt”
-
Nie mówiła nic
EMO
„Znowu siedzę z sobą całkiem sam a jedno co jest pewne chciałem to mam o tobie trudno jest zapomnieć ot tak nie mówiła nic chciała z tobą być lubiła solo tańczyć aż po świt kochałem ją jak nik”
-
Pilnie oddam gruz
Daj To Głośniej
„Miałeś wyglądać jak Dicaprio miałam się wozić Twoim cabrio w basenie sączyć Aperole a Ty wyglądasz tak że ja, że ja Cię nie chcę Miałeś być jak z bajki pantofle, a nie stare najki gdzie mogę ”
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