Quelle banne blogue!: Des fourmis au derrière bien énervé pour ceux là et ça fout une belle pêche en plein hiver: the Housemartins "I smell winter / Bow down"

Des fourmis au derrière bien énervé pour ceux là et ça fout une belle pêche en plein hiver: the Housemartins "I smell winter / Bow down"

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Fièvre de Monarc' a dit…: Merci les hirondelles... I Smell Winter

Now the sun was in my eyes
So forgive me if I was blind
But I can suddenly see the light now the blinds are raised
Now he's finally spoken
Winter's finally broken
I realise I'm heading for colder days

He can feel it just around the corner
He can feel it on every breath
And something tells him it's good goodbye summer
And something tells him it's the kiss of death

Losing at the tracks
Loosens all his taps
I smell winter on his breath
(I smell winter)
There's a chill down my spine
But the weather's fine
I smell winter on his breath
(I smell winter)

You better button up your coat
Or it'll catch you in the pit of the throat
You can certainly feel the wind blow when you're by yourself
And when the snow has finally melted
You better think about who you shelter
'Cause one of these days it might just be someone else

And he's searched underground and overground for a partner
Played his harmonica 'til his lips were raw
He's looked through tins and rubbish bins just for an answer
So far each year he's drawn the shortest straw

Losing at the tracks
Loosens all his taps
I smell winter on his breath
(I smell winter)
There's a chill down my spine
But the weather's fine
I smell winter on his breath
(I smell winter)

I smell winter
I smell winter
I smell winter
I (smell winter)

And he's searched underground and overground for a partner
Played his harmonica 'til his lips were raw
He's looked through tins and rubbish bins just for an answer
So far each year he's drawn the shortest straw

Losing at the tracks
Loosens all his taps
I smell winter on his breath
(I smell winter)
Theres a chill down my spine
But the weather's fine
I smell winter on his breath

I smell winter; 7/12/09
Fièvre de Monarc' a dit…: et un relan de Smiths vers la fin... Bow Down

Mother, father, I think that I would rather
Stay at home with you for another year
That building’s so tall and it makes me feel so small
That I might get lost and simply disappear
Evil smiles won’t change my mind
I’m worried and I’m not the worrying kind
Why’s that man rubbing his hands
Looking at me writing down his plans?

Today I have been moulding plasticine
And I made a little man who looked just like me
His limbs were so weak and he couldn’t move hiw mouth to speak
And I could bend him into any shape I wanted him to be

Evil smiles won’t change my mind
I’m worried and I’m not the worrying kind
Why’s that man rubbing his hands
Looking at me writing down his plans?

Those kids with the blazers on
They went in with names on their elbows
Came home with medals on
Spit it out that’s the way the story goes

A flying start for the briefcase crew

Oh, you didn’t have to teach me like you did
But you did
And you didn’t have to beat me like you did
But you did
But you did
You did
You did; 7/12/09

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