Текст, перевод и аккорды “Coming Up”
- Our father who art in a penthouse Sits in his 37th floor suite And swivels to gaze down At the city he made me in He allows me to stand and Sollicit graffiti until He needs the land I stand on I in my darkened threshold Am pawing through my pockets The receipts, the bus schedules The matchbook phone numbers The urgent napkin poems All of which laundering has rendered Pulpy and strange Loose change and a key Ask me Go ahead, ask me if I care I got the answer here I wrote it down somewhere I just gotta find it I just gotta find it Somebody and their spraypaint got too close Somebody came on too heavy Now look at me made ugly By the drooling letters I was better off alone Aint that the way it is They dont know the first thing But you dont know that Until they take the first swing My fingers are red and swollen from the cold Im getting bold in my old age So go ahead, try the door It doesnt matter anymore I know the weakhearted are strongwilled And we are being kept alive Until were killed Hes up there the ice Is clinking in his glass I dont ask I just empty my pockets and wait Its not fate Its just circumstance I dont fool myself with romance I just live Phone number to phone number Dusting them against my thighs In the warmth of my pockets Which whisper history incessantly Asking me Where were you I lower my eyes Wishing I could cry more And care less, Yes its true, I was trying to love someone again, I was caught caring, Bearing weight But I love this city, this state This country is too large And whoevers in charge up there Had better take the elevator down And put more than change in our cup Or else we Are coming Up
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