Many prophets preach on bended knee
Many clerics wasted wine
Do the bloody sheets
On those cobbled streets mean I have wasted time
Are there silver shores on paradise?
Can I come in from the cold?
I killed a man in a far away land
My enemy I'm told.
Many clerics wasted wine
Do the bloody sheets
On those cobbled streets mean I have wasted time
Are there silver shores on paradise?
Can I come in from the cold?
I killed a man in a far away land
My enemy I'm told.
Another winner from Mr. Blunt. It's a sad attempt to mimic Bob Dylan or the Beatles, without having any meaning behind the nonsense other than filler meet his contractual obligations with his record company. Or to get laid. It's hard to imagine this guy (he's on the left) has any deep thoughts: