Текст песни Thistledown Tears (Jeffrey Foucault) с переводом

Take me down to the bottom land

Good as any and we’ll make our stand

Hide our money in the bucket of the well

Keep your head down low it’s blowing like hell

Reverend said it’s a Judgement Day

Land turned to dust where it used to be clay

There’s a darkness coming and it’s well past dawn

Roomful of candles and the lights all gone

So don’t cry your thistledown tears

Blood and water both run clear

The time to wrestle the angel is here

And the night is quickly passing

Hymn songs drumming the dusk of the rooms

Glory go marching in the thread of a tune

Light up your lanterns and lay down your cares

Saint John he’s riding the four white mares

(Ref)

Churchbells ringing in the pounding wind

Ringing the dead men to rise up again

There’s dust comin' in at foot of the door

The moon and the tide and the earthly shore

The pull and the spin of a timed out reel

Hearts made of flint and words made of steel

The wind comes down off the Texas plain

Abel’s calling to raise up cane

(Ref)

The dawn rolls under the fenceline wires

Oily and cold but breathing of fire

The cock he’s crowing the daylight of dreams

For Judas and mercy and every in between

For Judas and mercy and every in between

Перевод песни Thistledown Tears