Fog dangling thick
Can’t see the right road
Streets are sick,
The eight day mill
It might grind slow, but it grinds fine
Indian rope man, while lookin’ on
Tells common clay he’s heavenly born
Retired layman looks on in scorn,
With a transplanted heart
Kiss him quick, he has to part.
Yeah… yeah
Indian rope man sees the times,
Splitting loose the edge of minds
Catching losers in his line, in his line, yeah
Kiss him quick, he has to part.
Yeah… yeah
Indian rope man flexes his eye,
Dissolving the fog
Revealing the lie
Indian rope man holds my trick in his heart, yeah
Kiss him quick, he has to part
Yeah… yeah
結果 (
日本語) 1:
[コピー]コピーしました!
Fog dangling thickCan’t see the right roadStreets are sick,The eight day millIt might grind slow, but it grinds fineIndian rope man, while lookin’ onTells common clay he’s heavenly bornRetired layman looks on in scorn,With a transplanted heartKiss him quick, he has to part.Yeah… yeahIndian rope man sees the times,Splitting loose the edge of mindsCatching losers in his line, in his line, yeahKiss him quick, he has to part.Yeah… yeahIndian rope man flexes his eye,Dissolving the fogRevealing the lieIndian rope man holds my trick in his heart, yeahKiss him quick, he has to partYeah… yeah
翻訳されて、しばらくお待ちください..