Tác giả : Beck
Người đăng : administrator, 14 năm trước
On the old forgotten crossways 
Where the fourteen rivers did meet 
The bones of our elders 
Lying in the street 
On a dark and dusty deserts 
Like a ghost i've flown 
I barely cried when i arrived 
I never found a home 
 
Ooh, feel the strain of sorrow 
Never ceasing 
Ooh, feel the strain of sorrow 
Never ceasing 
 
I am a ramshackler 
Go from town to town 
And when there is no shelter 
I lay down on the ground 
I killed every reason 
They gave for me to stay 
Cussed the morning,  burned the bone 
And dragged that thing away 
 
Mmm, to the peace of sorrow 
Never ceasing 
Mmm, to the strain of sorrow 
Never ceasing 
 
There's saints and there is animals 
They've taken what they could 
And it's written in the pages 
Do just like they should 
They stood the test and burned the rest 
And tore them limb from limb 
And it's marked upon their faces 
It's written on their skin 
 
Ooh, feel the strain of sorrow 
Never ceasing 
Mmm, feel the strain of sorrow 
Never ceasing