Текст песни In The Fall (Jared Mees & The Grown Children) с переводом

In the fall we can go huntin' down by the banks of old Mill Creek

Oh, you’re guns all rusted out and mine’s just made for shooting skeet

Oh, we can leave 'em in the truck and take two pints of Wild Turk

And when they ask us what we got, we’ll say, «Well, we got out of work»

And either you got longer legs or you got bigger lungs

Cause I know for a fact we done the same amount of drugs

And I’m lying in a heap on the side of the trail

While you take the shortcuts up to the top of the hill

But anyway, I’m terrified of heights

You gotta climb it alone

But when you get to the top, won’t you holler back down

What’s it look like up there?

I always kinda wanted to know

Woah, woah

Well, I got me a stereo I keep kinda low

Until a good song comes on, and then I kinda let her go

There’s still music out there that warms my insides

It makes my days a tiny little bit more demiserified

Like right now Bob Wills and his Playboys are talking

Bout how the big man gets the money while the little one picks the cotton

And the big fish eats the little fish, but that little fish was really bait

And I eat that big fish up with a silver spoon and a paper plate

The utensil I received from my mother and dad

But the plate I made myself with my own two hands

And I don’t mind either one just as long as nobody knows

Woah, woah

Well, I remember the day with my brother and his best friend

They burst into my room looking like the world come to an end

They said there’s a fire on the hill, but it’s near the reservoir

We can put it out but we gotta take mom and dad’s car

And I cursed both

And then I said lets go

Woah, woah

You’re giving me that look that says you’re in it deep

Unless that’s the look that says tonight don’t plan on any sleep

I guess I’ll take my chances with the one, hold out hope for the other

But girl, oh, wait a second, that smile’s kinda blowing your cover

And we’re sucking in the wind and snow through the cracks between our smiles

Making tracks back to the village, though we still got a couple miles

Where we can sharpen up our fangs, flatten out our feathers

And thank the good lord up above for this god awful weather

And if it’s too good just tell me, I’ll do something wrong

But I’m thinking that you’re winking cause you kinda like this song

And that bottle of Sangria wasn’t such a bad idea after all

Woah, woah

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