
The Spring of Next Year Jerry Herman (Ft. Charles Karel, Charles Welch, Clifford Fearl, Donald Pippin, Joe Masiell, Nasty Kutt & Zale Kessler)
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "The Spring of Next Year" от Jerry Herman (Ft. Charles Karel, Charles Welch, Clifford Fearl, Donald Pippin, Joe Masiell, Nasty Kutt & Zale Kessler). 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.

There will be a sweet taste in the air
From industrial waste in the air
And your eyelids will smart from the sting of the smog in the spring of next year
There will be a black slick on the Seine
And the sludge will be thick on the Seine
And your eardrums will thrill to the ring of the axe in the spring of next year
Ah, the apple trees blooming
As they're crushed into pulp
There'll be smokestacks consuming
Each availablе gulp
That's inhalable
But the moment most thrilling bеgins
When the pneumatic drilling begins
It's a song that all Paris will sing in the bountiful spring of next year
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
You'll be watching the statues corrode
We'll be hearing the fountains explode
It's a song that the hatchets will ring and the derricks will swing and all Paris will sing in the bountiful spring of next year
From industrial waste in the air
And your eyelids will smart from the sting of the smog in the spring of next year
There will be a black slick on the Seine
And the sludge will be thick on the Seine
And your eardrums will thrill to the ring of the axe in the spring of next year
Ah, the apple trees blooming
As they're crushed into pulp
There'll be smokestacks consuming
Each availablе gulp
That's inhalable
But the moment most thrilling bеgins
When the pneumatic drilling begins
It's a song that all Paris will sing in the bountiful spring of next year
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah
You'll be watching the statues corrode
We'll be hearing the fountains explode
It's a song that the hatchets will ring and the derricks will swing and all Paris will sing in the bountiful spring of next year
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