Lotta Man (In That Little Boy)

His life is that blue bike, ball glove an' fishin' pole,
Tree-house, BB gun and band aid covered knees.
He does good deliverin' papers,
An' cuttin' grass for the neighbours,
Except for Widow Wilson: he cuts hers for free.
His little hands do a lot for a kid his age,
He puts one-tenth of his hard earned money,
In the offering plate each Sunday by his own choice.
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

Weekdays, he tries to sleep late:
Weekends, he's up at daybreak.
Him an' Roy wadin' in Cotton Creek.
That dog was like his brother:
You'd seen one, you'd see the other.
Cut one an' both of them would bleed.
Tires screamed, but that ol' truck couldn't stop.
There's the tree that he buried him under;
He made a cross from scraps of lumber,
An' on it carved: "God Bless ol' Roy."
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

There's a house, down where he goes fishin':
He told his Mom: "Those kids got nothin',
"And I don't need all these toys."
There's a lotta man.
(There's a lotta man. There's a lotta man.)
In that little boy

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Я стою на земле, на бедняжке земле Я хочу ей помочь, но сил уже нет Прости нас дорогая, мы виноваты Нас хотят убрать, но им нас не взять Мы можем любить, и не хотим

When I wake up in the afternoon Which it pleases me to do Don't nobody bring me no bad news 'Cause I wake up already negative And I've wired up my fuse So don't nobody

Этот праздничный бит - Совокупность орбит Все как надо играет Жарю ультрамальвин И танцую один Остальные стесняются Не надо стесняться Музыкальный настрой В левом ухе си бемоль Так и хочется танцев Те, кто слышит мой соул Заполняют танцпол Остальные стесняются Не надо стесняться *с

Когда поймешь умом, что ты один на свете, И одиночества дорога так длинна, То жить легко и думаешь о смерти, Как о последней капле горького вина. Вот мой бокал, в нем больше ни

I take off time to time With those crazy friends of mine Head out on steel horses With wheels and we ride We burn up that road to old Mexico Blend in with the desert Just