歌曲 | Soap Box Preacher |
歌手 | Robbie Robertson |
专辑 | Storyville |
作词 : Robertson | |
Soap box preachers tanding on the corner | |
And all the people they would gather round | |
You speak of faith with a blaze of glory | |
But those that fear they wanna knock you down | |
Nobody knows where you live | |
Where do you go in the naked night | |
All of the prophets that come before you | |
They can hear your lonesome cry | |
When you're out there in the night | |
All alone | |
When you're staring in the light | |
At the end of the road | |
In those proud shoes coming on up the alley | |
In those proud shoes walks all over the sky | |
Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote | |
And said don't let the rapture pass you by | |
Heard a bugle blowing in the misty morning | |
What a haunting sound over Times Square | |
Heard of the ghost of 52nd Street | |
Looked out the door but no one was there | |
Out in the cold Harlem rain | |
I went searching for this minstrel man | |
Played me a song to ease the pain | |
With a Salvation Army band | |
When you're out there in the dark | |
All alone | |
When you're sleeping in the park | |
At the end of the road | |
In those proud shoes coming on up the alley | |
In those proud shoes walks all over the sky | |
Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote | |
And said don't let the rapture pass you by | |
In the neon wilderness and the asphalt jungle | |
He carries his cross of passion | |
Through the wreckage and the rumble | |
In those proud shoes coming on up the alley | |
In those proud shoes walks all over the sky | |
Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote | |
And said don't let the rapture | |
Don't let the rapture pass you by | |
Don't let it pass you by | |
Oh don't let it pass you by |
zuò cí : Robertson | |
Soap box preachers tanding on the corner | |
And all the people they would gather round | |
You speak of faith with a blaze of glory | |
But those that fear they wanna knock you down | |
Nobody knows where you live | |
Where do you go in the naked night | |
All of the prophets that come before you | |
They can hear your lonesome cry | |
When you' re out there in the night | |
All alone | |
When you' re staring in the light | |
At the end of the road | |
In those proud shoes coming on up the alley | |
In those proud shoes walks all over the sky | |
Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote | |
And said don' t let the rapture pass you by | |
Heard a bugle blowing in the misty morning | |
What a haunting sound over Times Square | |
Heard of the ghost of 52nd Street | |
Looked out the door but no one was there | |
Out in the cold Harlem rain | |
I went searching for this minstrel man | |
Played me a song to ease the pain | |
With a Salvation Army band | |
When you' re out there in the dark | |
All alone | |
When you' re sleeping in the park | |
At the end of the road | |
In those proud shoes coming on up the alley | |
In those proud shoes walks all over the sky | |
Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote | |
And said don' t let the rapture pass you by | |
In the neon wilderness and the asphalt jungle | |
He carries his cross of passion | |
Through the wreckage and the rumble | |
In those proud shoes coming on up the alley | |
In those proud shoes walks all over the sky | |
Then he tipped his hat just like Don Quixote | |
And said don' t let the rapture | |
Don' t let the rapture pass you by | |
Don' t let it pass you by | |
Oh don' t let it pass you by |