Besedila: Elvis Costello. Dust 2....
If dust could only talk, what would we hear it say?
Before it's brushed aside just as it's swept away
It's just the evidence, it's of no consequence
It's only flesh and bone, why don't you leave it alone?
If dust could only speak caught in a falling beam
If dust could only cry, if dust could only scream
For it's the single witness that might testify
Could I spit out the truth? Or would you rather just swallow a lie?
But dust is always caught behind a coat of paint
Beneath the marble fingernails of kings and saints
And in the theater curtain where they hang a drape
Or in the ticket pocket where your hands escape
Before they start to wander or they start to shrink
You rub your eye a little and appear to blink
And then she caught you staring, she knows just what you're thinking
What got into you was not a ghost as such, it was just dust
Here comes the juggernaut, here come The Poisoners
They choke the life and land and rob the joy from us
Why do they taste of sugar? Oh, when they're made of money
Here comes the Lamb of God and the butcher's boy, Sonny
Well, I believe we just
Become a speck of dust
Before it's brushed aside just as it's swept away
It's just the evidence, it's of no consequence
It's only flesh and bone, why don't you leave it alone?
If dust could only speak caught in a falling beam
If dust could only cry, if dust could only scream
For it's the single witness that might testify
Could I spit out the truth? Or would you rather just swallow a lie?
But dust is always caught behind a coat of paint
Beneath the marble fingernails of kings and saints
And in the theater curtain where they hang a drape
Or in the ticket pocket where your hands escape
Before they start to wander or they start to shrink
You rub your eye a little and appear to blink
And then she caught you staring, she knows just what you're thinking
What got into you was not a ghost as such, it was just dust
Here comes the juggernaut, here come The Poisoners
They choke the life and land and rob the joy from us
Why do they taste of sugar? Oh, when they're made of money
Here comes the Lamb of God and the butcher's boy, Sonny
Well, I believe we just
Become a speck of dust
Costello, Elvis
Costello, Elvis
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