Текст песни: The Van Pelt. His Steppe Is My Prairie.
:
The prairie yankee does the dance of the redskin to the songs of the Yanglse and he doesn't even know it. My bluegrass fathers sing and dance like the Gaelics with the tools of the Sangalese that they took and never said "thank you". It wouldn't be so bad if they didnt change hands with a gun. It wouldn't be so bad if the old west were never won. And when we learn about trade, we really learn about swine, I could pick up that banjo and everything would be just fine.
Come on, Cringe, your skin is soiled 'cause your cousins have sinned. Fire, retire, and wipe your hands on your companies seams. Cold, Gold, They built their fortunes on the weakest of stones. And no I don't feel guilt, OK, but only sometimes.
When Khubla Khan rode the railroad, he got off at every stop. When Jesus Jones lynched his neighbor that borrowed music never quit. So I'm gonna kick it once again so you boys can get it through your heads. My guitar's stained with blood, from the head on up the neck 'cause come things were never said. Yeah, some things were never said.
The prairie yankee does the dance of the redskin to the songs of the Yanglse and he doesn't even know it. My bluegrass fathers sing and dance like the Gaelics with the tools of the Sangalese that they took and never said "thank you". It wouldn't be so bad if they didnt change hands with a gun. It wouldn't be so bad if the old west were never won. And when we learn about trade, we really learn about swine, I could pick up that banjo and everything would be just fine.
Come on, Cringe, your skin is soiled 'cause your cousins have sinned. Fire, retire, and wipe your hands on your companies seams. Cold, Gold, They built their fortunes on the weakest of stones. And no I don't feel guilt, OK, but only sometimes.
When Khubla Khan rode the railroad, he got off at every stop. When Jesus Jones lynched his neighbor that borrowed music never quit. So I'm gonna kick it once again so you boys can get it through your heads. My guitar's stained with blood, from the head on up the neck 'cause come things were never said. Yeah, some things were never said.
The Van Pelt
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