David Bowie Ballad Of The Adventurers

Đóng góp: Ballad Of The Adventurers

Sicke ned by sun, with rainstorms lashing him rotten

A looted wreath
crowning his tangled hair

Every moment of his youth apart from its dream
was forgotten

Gone the roof overhead, but the sky was always there



Oh you, who are flung out, alike from heaven and from Hades

You
murder ers who've been so bitterly repaid

Why did you part from the
mothers who nursed you as babies

It was peaceful and you slept and there
you stayed



Still he explores and rakes the absinthe green
oceans

Tho ugh his mother has given him up for lost

Grinning and
cursing with a few odd tears of contrition

Always in search of that land
where life seems best



Loafing through hells and flocked through
paradises

Calm and grinning, with a vanishing face

At times he
still dreams of a small field he recognises

With a blue sky overhead and
nothing else