
Mexican Home Chris Knight (Ft. John Prine)
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Mexican Home" от Chris Knight (Ft. John Prine). Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Verse 1: Chris Knight]
It got so hot last night, I swear
You couldn't hardly breathe
Heat lightning burned the sky like alcohol
I sat on the porch without my shoes
And I watched the car roll by
As the headlights raced
To the corner of the kitchen wall
[Chorus: Chris Knight and John Prine]
Mother, dear, your boy is here far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
I feel a storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
[Verse 2: Chris Knight & John Prine]
My God, I cried, it's so hot inside
You could die in the living room
Take the fan from the window
Prop the door back with a broom
The cuckoo clock has died of shock
The windows feel no pane
The air's as still as the throttle on a funeral train
[Chorus: John Prine]
Mama, dear, your boy is here far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
I feel a storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
It got so hot last night, I swear
You couldn't hardly breathe
Heat lightning burned the sky like alcohol
I sat on the porch without my shoes
And I watched the car roll by
As the headlights raced
To the corner of the kitchen wall
[Chorus: Chris Knight and John Prine]
Mother, dear, your boy is here far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
I feel a storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
[Verse 2: Chris Knight & John Prine]
My God, I cried, it's so hot inside
You could die in the living room
Take the fan from the window
Prop the door back with a broom
The cuckoo clock has died of shock
The windows feel no pane
The air's as still as the throttle on a funeral train
[Chorus: John Prine]
Mama, dear, your boy is here far across the sea
Waiting for that sacred coal that burns inside of me
I feel a storm, all wet and warm, not ten miles away
Approaching my Mexican home
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