From under the covers — Beautiful South: текст песни

#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #

Date: Sun, 23 Jul 1995 11:01:50 -0700 From: [email protected] (Sir Not Appearing in this Film) Subject: Beautiful South - 'From Under The Covers'

>From Under The Covers By Paul Heaton and David Rotheray

It's six a.m. and even Big Ben Is trying to get his head down for a kip But no sooner is it down And then it's on with dressing gown For this city very rarely loses grip

But I have a friend who's never up by ten He's fast asleep with mouth open wide He's lost a lot of jobs, but he's won a lot of friends And he says to me, he cannot tell the time

It's seven a.m. and we're coughing up the phlegm Spitting out the taste of night before And we'll vomit and we'll choke Just to climb their tatty rope Well this city has its charm and its claw

And he'll blame his clock Or he'll say he's lost his socks And they'll tell you that he's been bitten by a snake His excuses are an art >From the bottom of his heart And he thinks of them whenever he awakes

It's eight a.m. we're on the road again Racing for a placing at the top And it says green for go For the people in the know But for the others all it says is red for stop

It's cold and it's damp And they've dug him a grave And the ten fifteen merchant's still in bed And scrawled upon the headboard For the whole wide world to see is "Died In The Arms Of Big Ted"

From: Christian Korbanka, Cologne, Germany E-mail: [email protected] Lyrics and chords of: From Under The Covers by The Beautiful South

Suggestions and corrections are always welcome! Date: 95/10/15

It's 6.00 a.m. and even Big Ben Is trying to get his head down for a kip But no sooner is it down And then it's on with dressing gown For this city very rarely loses grip

But I have a friend who's never up by 10.00 He's fast asleep with mouth open wide He's lost a lot of jobs, but he's won a lot of friends And he says to me, he cannot tell the time

It's 7.00 a.m. and we're coghing up the phlegm Spitting out the taste of night before And we'll vomit and we'll choke Just to climb their tatty rope Well this city has it's charm, and is't claw

And he'll blame his clock or he'll say he's lost his socks And they'll tell you that he's been bitten by a snake His excuses are an art from the bottom of his heart And he thinks of them whenever he awakes

It's 8.00 a.m. and we're on the road again Racing for a placing at the top And it says green for go For the people in the know But for the others all it says red for stop

It's cold and it's damp and they've dug him a grave And the 10.15 merchants still in bed And scrawled upon the headboard for the whole wide world to see is "Died In The Arms Of Big Ted"

Original played in F-Major! Seite 2 von 2