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Текст песни "Little Kid — Slow Train"
You tried to stop the bleeding, taped a gun against your head:
It left you feeling like a medium between the living and the dead.
Your face is lit by high beams, as cars pass along the road.
There’s a bed beneath your eyelids where a river used to flow.
Some days you’re like a martyr; some days you just get stoned.
Forget the things you wanted; you’re here for what you owed.
Some days you feel like Abel; some days you feel like Cain,
Reclining at your table while your brother cries in pain.
And when you die, you don’t know
Where the hell you will go.
The train’s coming so slow.
I know, I know.
On some scroll, we found your letters to some god whose name we couldn’t write,
Laid some leaves on down its centre, sealed it up, and rolled it tight.
Lit it up behind the temple, and in the warm glow of its light,
I swear my darling’s eyes resembled dark cathedrals in the night.
Some days I feel like Jacob; some days I feel like Job:
Broken pottery for scraping, limps from wrestling with the Lord.
Some days I pray to Jesus; some days I don’t pray for shit.
Though I fumble with the pieces, some days they almost seem to fit.
And when I die, I don’t know
Where the hell I will go.
The train’s coming so slow.
You know. You know.
