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Приєднався 13 січ 2008
Old Drunken Jig - Brutus Daughters
Melodies were taken from the chest of our legends
staves remained unbroken through the jigs i now remember
inherted as treasure of a past where my ancestors
asked me to keep this endless trip to grasp memories
early in the morning I lean out just to see
The grass is wet, It's foggy out there the grey wind shakes me
i coulnd't find the the bagpipe dwarf may have taken it
a fair revenge 'cause I hace played the old drunken Jig
the cold doesn't mind my friends are outside
I go out in search of the bars we come by
that le us stay together till late
nights are spent the Jig's heard again
we share more than we need
The song is not over in your skin's still
bagpipes which merge with your tears
your roots sew the notes of the old drunken Jig
the wooden door is open now alone corners speak
I smell emptiness the beer in kegs echoes of some grief
fiddlers show heartaches the bagpipe steals my breath
as last we're all able to sing the old druken Jig
Won't wait till morning arrives
the dawn closes bars and cuts out the rhymes
green shamrocks are tattooed in your veins
that garden you dreamt of gives luck to your fate.
staves remained unbroken through the jigs i now remember
inherted as treasure of a past where my ancestors
asked me to keep this endless trip to grasp memories
early in the morning I lean out just to see
The grass is wet, It's foggy out there the grey wind shakes me
i coulnd't find the the bagpipe dwarf may have taken it
a fair revenge 'cause I hace played the old drunken Jig
the cold doesn't mind my friends are outside
I go out in search of the bars we come by
that le us stay together till late
nights are spent the Jig's heard again
we share more than we need
The song is not over in your skin's still
bagpipes which merge with your tears
your roots sew the notes of the old drunken Jig
the wooden door is open now alone corners speak
I smell emptiness the beer in kegs echoes of some grief
fiddlers show heartaches the bagpipe steals my breath
as last we're all able to sing the old druken Jig
Won't wait till morning arrives
the dawn closes bars and cuts out the rhymes
green shamrocks are tattooed in your veins
that garden you dreamt of gives luck to your fate.
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