Silver Palomino 歌词

	作词 : Springsteen
	A mother dies, leaving her young son to come to terms with the loss.
	In remembrance of Fiona Chappel, for her sons Tyler and Oliver.
	I was barely 13 years old
	She came out of the Guadalupe's on a night so cold
	Her coat was frosted diamonds in the sallow moon's glow
	My silver palomino
	Sixteen hands from her withers to the ground
	I lie in bed and listen to the sound
	Of the west Texas thunder roll
	My silver palomino
	I track her into the mountains she loved
	Watch her from the rocks above
	She'd dip her neck and drink from the winter flows
	My silver palomino
	Our mustaneros were the very best, sir
	But they could never lay a rope on her
	No corral will ever hold
	The silver palomino
	In my dreams bareback I ride
	Over the pradera low and wide
	As the wind sweeps out the draw
	'Cross the scrub desert floor
	I'd give my riata and spurs
	If I could be forever yours
	I'd ride into the serrania where no one goes
	For my silver palomino
	Summer drought come hard that year
	Our herd grazed the land so bare
	Me and my dad had to blowtorch the thorns off the prickly pear
	And mother, your hand slipped from my hair
	Tonight I wake early the sky is pearl, the stars aglow
	I saddle up my red roan
	I ride deep into the mountains along a ridge of pale stone
	Where the air is still with the coming snow
	As I rise higher I can smell your hair
	The scent of your skin, mother, fills the air
	'Midst the harsh scrub pine that grows
	I watch the silver palomino

	zuo ci : Springsteen
	A mother dies, leaving her young son to come to terms with the loss.
	In remembrance of Fiona Chappel, for her sons Tyler and Oliver.
	I was barely 13 years old
	She came out of the Guadalupe' s on a night so cold
	Her coat was frosted diamonds in the sallow moon' s glow
	My silver palomino
	Sixteen hands from her withers to the ground
	I lie in bed and listen to the sound
	Of the west Texas thunder roll
	My silver palomino
	I track her into the mountains she loved
	Watch her from the rocks above
	She' d dip her neck and drink from the winter flows
	My silver palomino
	Our mustaneros were the very best, sir
	But they could never lay a rope on her
	No corral will ever hold
	The silver palomino
	In my dreams bareback I ride
	Over the pradera low and wide
	As the wind sweeps out the draw
	' Cross the scrub desert floor
	I' d give my riata and spurs
	If I could be forever yours
	I' d ride into the serrania where no one goes
	For my silver palomino
	Summer drought come hard that year
	Our herd grazed the land so bare
	Me and my dad had to blowtorch the thorns off the prickly pear
	And mother, your hand slipped from my hair
	Tonight I wake early the sky is pearl, the stars aglow
	I saddle up my red roan
	I ride deep into the mountains along a ridge of pale stone
	Where the air is still with the coming snow
	As I rise higher I can smell your hair
	The scent of your skin, mother, fills the air
	' Midst the harsh scrub pine that grows
	I watch the silver palomino

	zuò cí : Springsteen
	A mother dies, leaving her young son to come to terms with the loss.
	In remembrance of Fiona Chappel, for her sons Tyler and Oliver.
	I was barely 13 years old
	She came out of the Guadalupe' s on a night so cold
	Her coat was frosted diamonds in the sallow moon' s glow
	My silver palomino
	Sixteen hands from her withers to the ground
	I lie in bed and listen to the sound
	Of the west Texas thunder roll
	My silver palomino
	I track her into the mountains she loved
	Watch her from the rocks above
	She' d dip her neck and drink from the winter flows
	My silver palomino
	Our mustaneros were the very best, sir
	But they could never lay a rope on her
	No corral will ever hold
	The silver palomino
	In my dreams bareback I ride
	Over the pradera low and wide
	As the wind sweeps out the draw
	' Cross the scrub desert floor
	I' d give my riata and spurs
	If I could be forever yours
	I' d ride into the serrania where no one goes
	For my silver palomino
	Summer drought come hard that year
	Our herd grazed the land so bare
	Me and my dad had to blowtorch the thorns off the prickly pear
	And mother, your hand slipped from my hair
	Tonight I wake early the sky is pearl, the stars aglow
	I saddle up my red roan
	I ride deep into the mountains along a ridge of pale stone
	Where the air is still with the coming snow
	As I rise higher I can smell your hair
	The scent of your skin, mother, fills the air
	' Midst the harsh scrub pine that grows
	I watch the silver palomino

YouTube搜索结果 (转至YouTube)