Golden Heart : Mark. Knopfler. com. Lyrics. Skint in a material world. I did a warehouse stint for Southsea girl. It was Hong Kong clothes for cash.
Everybody got treated worse than trash. Punch the card in the company clock.
Load the trolleys and the company trucks. And around and around the whole day through. And you couldn’t sit down when there was nothing to do. Well they had beaten up people from every land. Fools like me trying to be in bands.
A little French girl so good to me. But I couldn’t love her back so lonely. A backpacker travelling through.
A lumberjack with the travelling blues. We had worn out shoes and worn out cuffs. And big ideas that were never big enough. He said the man wants you go wash his car. Hey you I’m talking to you I said me, not me uh uh. No can do. No can can do no can.
No can can do no can. Now some were grown up unlike me.
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And were dealing with reality. I was spittin’ sulkin’ smokin’ shirkin’While a lady from Jamaica was singing and working. I had everyone but me to blame. And every day was just the same. Well nobody ever said it was a righteous world. But if they did they never said it at Southsea girl. He said the man wants you go wash his car.
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Hey you I’m talking to you I said me, not me uh uh. No can do. No can can do no can.
No can can do no can. Well I’ve made my bed on peoples floors. Opened up and closed some doors. Dreamed that if my dreams came true.
Then I wouldn’t do what I didn’t want to. Walking through the gates to the outside. To dream some dreams that never died.
And I walked the streets of London town. Looking for a place to put my head down. He said the man wants you go wash his car.
No can can do no can. CREDITSMark Knopfler: guitars. Guy Fletcher: keyboards & backing vocals. Glenn Worf: string bass. Chad Cromwell: drums. Danny Cummings: percussion & backing vocals.
Brendan Croker: backing vocals.
Song of Myself. Won't you help support Day. Poems? 1. 81. 9- 1. I celebrate myself, and sing myself.
And what I assume you shall assume. For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I do not know what it is any more than he. I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you; ). The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great. On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms. The crew of the fish- smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold.
The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle. As the fare- collector goes through the train he gives notice by the. The floor- men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the. In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers.
Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gather'd, it. Seventh- month, (what salutes of cannon and small arms!). Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the mower mows. Off on the lakes the pike- fisher watches and waits by the hole in. The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes deep. Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton- wood or pecan- trees. Coon- seekers go through the regions of the Red river or through.
Tennessee, or through those of the Arkansas. Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche or Altamahaw. Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and great- grandsons. In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappers after.
The city sleeps and the country sleeps. The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time. The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife. And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them. And such as it is to be of these more or less I am.
And of these one and all I weave the song of myself. I resign myself to you also- -I guess what you mean. I behold from the beach your crooked fingers. I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me.
We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land. Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse. Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
I will accept nothing which all cannot have their. I am possess'd! Iowa, Oregon, California? O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days! I plead for my brothers and sisters. Comment on Day. Poems? If you are like us, you have strong feelings about poetry, and about each poem you read. Let it all out! Comment on this poem, any poem, Day.
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