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The Ark (Swedish band)( The Ark )
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Singing 'Bout The City
Lyricist:Jens Andersson, Martin Karl Axen Persson, Mikael Jepson, Lars Henrik Ljungberg, Ola Salo, Sylvester David Schlegel
I was born and raised with the cross in my face And a mind that was set for pity Not fully grown I was left all alone That's the time I set my eyes on the city, yeah
Where no cold wind sweep at a willow's weep And no singing in the treetops puts a child to sleep Where the ghosts and creeps, sad eyed roam the streets And the best minds turning tricks for that sad and angry fix
But now I'm through, I'm through I'm through, I'm through, I'm through Singing 'bout the city (Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city)
I was all knocked down as I came to town I was smug as a bug and pretty I was led to believe that a little less self-esteem Was required to survive in the city, yeah
In the high-end streets where the faces meet Who are daring for a sharing on the toilet seats But I've had my fill of cheap boudoir thrills Hallelujah, I am coming, bring the fattened calf and sing
Now I'm through, I'm through I'm through, I'm through, I'm through Singing 'bout the city (Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city)
In the summertime in the dry hot town Sun is high and ambition is low When the sewers seethe there's no air to breathe Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com And when no place feels like home
In the summertime in the countryside Where the birches and long grass grow And the small birds sing and the church-bell ring And the gentle warm winds blow
I guess, I really should have known There's only one place left to go This time I'm really coming, coming home
I'm gonna spread my wings, gonna leave everything Far behind that's unsound and shitty I'm free at last, it's all in the past Fooling 'round like a clown in the city, yeah
Where no pine and spruce lend a home to the moose And no brown bears sleep and no rabbits snooze In the open wild you get warm and mild Turning playboys to the plough boys that they are inside
Where the green crops grow and the rivers flow Where lakes glitter, small birds twitter Oh, I sure could think of worse It's the Springsteen curse but this time it's in reverse Life's a pity in the city hell What does Bruce know about spruce?
Oh, I'm through, I'm through I'm through, I'm through, I'm through I'm through, I'm through, I'm through Singing 'bout the city, yeah
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