Instrumentos
Ensembles
Opera
Compositores
Artista

Letras:Town Pants. Breakfast With St. Swithin.

I had breakfast with St. Swithin
He was waiting on a train
He said, "Tell me all your troubles boy,
I won't be through this way again."
I said, "There's a certain one, and
Her beauty's like an engine."
He said, "Hang on son, I've heard this one,
And the rest ain't worth the mention."

Said I'm sick of all you bleeding-hearts
Hung up over skirts
You always spend your money
Just to end up feeling like dirt
You sit home there alone
Until all your youth is gone
The bright lights of the city:
They're waiting for you son.

Let's go running through the streets (2x)
Stop along and chat with everyone we meet
(repeat)

He brought me to the bars

And he brought me around 'til one
He dragged me here, and dragged me there
Thought I'd never see the sun
He dropped me on the corner
I never saw him go
I thought about his advice as I
Walked home in the snow.

Ain't got no wishing well
&#x'cause dead men never tell
And all rose up from hell tonight
''cause I guess that's just as well
I've never come in early
And I've never come home late
I've never sang out of key
And I've never sang that great.