〽Márcio Grings〽 · @MarcioGrings
10th Oct 2012 from Twitlonger
Traces of Son House (Grings/Andrade)
I see the black engine steam
Snarling in the metal like a beast
I say to myself it’s not real, it was never clear
It’s trying to hold, trying to hold the wind
My gal has gone
Before changing the season
She was mine
I say to myself it’s not real, it was never clear
It’s trying to hold, trying to hold the fall
I walk beside a strange man
Seems like a face of Son House
I say to myself it’s not real, it was never clear
It’s trying to hold, trying to hold the hill