I easily get carried away, but unfortunatly (or is it fortunate?) not very far. For past few days, this awesome piece by Nancy Sinatra is ringing in my brain.
I was five and he was six
we rode on horses made of sticks
he wore black and i wore white
he would always win the fight
bang, bang
he shot me down bang, bang
i hit the ground ... bang, bang
that awful sound,
bang bang,
my baby shot me down.
seasons came and changed the time,
when i grew up i called him mine
he would always laugh and say
remember when we used to play ... bang bang
i shot you down bang bang
you hit the ground bang bang
that awful sound ... bang bang ...
i used to shoot you down
music played and people sang
just for me the church bells rang ... ...
now he's gone i don't know why
and to this day sometimes i cry
he didn't even say goodbye
he didn't take the time ... to lie!
bang, bang
he shot me down, bang bang
i hit the ground bang, bang ...
that awful sound, bang bang ...
my baby shot me down.
It speaks out my mind, if I replace "he" with she ... my baby shot me down, BANG BANG ...
Well, I should get up from the ground.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment