Текст песни If I Don't Make It Home (Pasadena) с переводом

Yes, Yes, Y’all

If I don’t make it home, don’t let ‘em burn my bones, I want to be buried where

my people come from. Just put me in a pinewood box, mark it east to the bay

where the train tracks stop;

And if I don’t make it back, just know I died happy wherever I was at,

‘cause I live my life as if it was a song, through the highs, and the lows,

and the rights, and the wrongs.

The rights and the wrongs.

The rights and the wrongs.

I know it’s a hard thing to swallow, nobody here is promised tomorrow.

In a world filled with so much sorrow, I guess you got to be careful what you

borrow. See we’re running out of time my friends, where it ends it all depends.

Do you live to possess or defend, do you give it all you have, do you

tirelessly tend?

Why the fuck should I pretend?

I live my life like I was singing a song, so if I don’t make it home,

everybody sing along. You can blame it on the bottle, you can blame it on the

bowl, you can blame it on my shows or my rolling stones soul. This life ain’t

so glamorous, I’m not sure I can handle it, with both ends of the candles lit,

my albums and my manuscripts. I’m kind of broke so not much else to leave,

plus whatchu do when you ain’t got no more tricks up your sleeve?

I play my cards; I do my best to get ahead. I got fans now, but people love

you when you’re Dead. I never meant to leave my baby all alone, so tell my girl

I love her I f I don’t make it home.

Only thing I ever been good at was running my mouth, and now I’m living in a

van till I’m running the South; and I’m a king in the North, the law in the

West, well I demolish more liquor than LENS. With a lifestyle sicker than a

swimmer in cess, pit what I spit while we consider the mess of a

quarter-century spent in a state of excess, It’s all a or nothing man,

not a fucking thing less. And I wish I had a plan, but I stay edge of the seat.

Maybe I’ll make a couple grand and a couple CDs; but the dollar ain’t in

demand, music’s digitally. It’s hard to understand, but it’s my legacy.

Its hella hot water, you can always run farther. My friends we’re no longer,

the sons and the daughters. We are the penholders, the tireless soldiers,

the muse of this land, the builders and the sculptures. The product of love,

the Passion and blood, the audience of, which our Creator will judge,

we are the product of love, the Passion and blood, the audience of,

which our Creator will judge, the product of love, the Passion and blood,

the audience of, which our Creator will judge.

If I don’t make it home, don’t let ‘em burn my bones, I want to be buried where

my people come from. Just put me in a pinewood box, mark it east to the bay

where the train tracks stop.

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