колючий · узелок

The future glints like the moon on an old slate roof,
and everything you say sounds like the truth.
The things you did made half my dreams com true -
and I wanted to be with you.

Sing your songs of what could be;
of all the things you brought back home to me.

And I wonder what the papers are going to say?
Another actress, another war, another day?
But everything's changed, the world woke up today -
and I wanted to be with you.

Sing your songs of what could be;
draw the world for those who couldn't see.

chumbawamba

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