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Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoRock, Salt and Nails
On the banks of the river, where the willows hang downWhere the wild birds all warble with a low moaning soundDown in the hollow where the water runs coldIt's there I have listened to the lies that you toldNow I lie on my bed and I see your sweet faceThe past I remember, time cannot eraseThe letters you wrote me were written in shameAnd I know that your conscience still echos my painNow the nights are so long, my sorrow runs deepNothing is worse than a night without sleepI walk out alone, I look at the skyToo empty to sing, too lonesome to cryNow if the ladies were blackbirds and the ladies were thrushesI'd lie there for hours in the chilly cold marshesIf the ladies were squirrels with them high bushy tailsI'd fill up my shotgun with rock, salt and nails
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