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Compañero en el desfile

Hop Along

Buddy In The Parade

I heard you were the king
You didn't leave behind a goddamn thing
Why did I look into the dim eye of the mole?
There was no silence there many voices spoke
Thinking I died I tried to listen
I saw one hundred saddles without horses, galloping

Get outta here, go home
That's what you used to play at shows

Sister, sister, sister
Watches the furniture go
She just didn't have the scratch
To keep you in that sorry hole

Money money, money
Don't let you sleep
Switching graves in the cemetery
They buried you so many times
Can't find your body

Get outta here, go home
That's what you used to play at the ends of shows

In the middle of the parade, you were frothing at the mouth
"Didn't he ramble 'til the butcher cut him down?"

Fool, all you touch on this turning dream
Is either gonna be burned or buried
All your jewelry goes around from town to town
All your pretty ones, I'm not gonna say where they are now

Get outta here, go home
That's what you used to play at the ends of shows

In the middle of the parade, you were frothing at the mouth
Children, turn on your radio and don't go out
Don't go out
Out

Don't go out
Don't

Compañero en el desfile

Escuché que eras el rey
No dejaste ni maldita cosa atrás
¿Por qué miré a los ojos oscuros del topo?
No había silencio, muchas voces hablaban
Pensando que morí, intenté escuchar
Vi cien sillas sin caballos, galopando

Lárgate de aquí, vete a casa
Eso solías tocar en los shows

Hermana, hermana, hermana
Ve cómo los muebles se van
Ella simplemente no tenía la plata
Para mantenerte en ese agujero lamentable

Dinero, dinero, dinero
No te deja dormir
Cambiando de tumba en el cementerio
Te enterraron tantas veces
No pueden encontrar tu cuerpo

Lárgate de aquí, vete a casa
Eso solías tocar al final de los shows

En medio del desfile, estabas espumando por la boca
'¿No divagó hasta que el carnicero lo derribó?'

Tonto, todo lo que tocas en este sueño cambiante
O se va a quemar o a ser enterrado
Todas tus joyas van de pueblo en pueblo
Todas tus bellezas, no voy a decir dónde están ahora

Lárgate de aquí, vete a casa
Eso solías tocar al final de los shows

En medio del desfile, estabas espumando por la boca
Niños, enciendan la radio y no salgan
No salgan
Fuera

No salgan
No

Escrita por: Frances Quinlan