Besedila: Mountain Goats, The. 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