Besedila: The Mountain Goats. Pure Heat.

the wind from the north, flattens the yellow corn.
you come into the house, with your dress torn.

i can see you now, as through a screen.
a smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene

your hair hangs down, over me.
your hair casts a shadow to cover me.

i can see you now, as through a screen.
a smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene

the wind from the north, cools me.
the wind from the north, doesn't fool me.

i can see you now, as through a screen.
a smile on your face, your fingers dripping kerosene