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letras de
Paul Simon
DUNCAN
0 opinión
Letra y Significado de
DUNCAN,
Paul Simon
Significados y Opiniones (
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Letra
Oh no! Esta misteriosa letra aun no encontro explicación. Si estas acá, podes ser la primer persona que aporte el significado de esta canción. No es necesario registrarse, puede ser anonimo. Hace clic en el botón verde y envianos tu opinión.
:)
Envia tu opinión de DUNCAN
Envia tu opinión de DUNCAN
Couple in the next room
bound to win a prize:
they've been going at it all night long!
well, i'm tryin' to get some sleep
but these motel walls are cheap:
lincoln duncan is my name,
and here's my song, here's my song.
My father was a fisherman,
my mama was a fisherman's friend,
and i was born in the boredom and the chowder.
so when i reached my prime
i left my home in the maritimes,
headed down the turnpike for new england, sweet new england.
Holes in my confidence,
holes in the knees of my jeans,
i was left without a penny in my pocket ....
oo-oowee, i was about as destituted as a kid could be
and i wished i wore a ring so i could hock it ...
i'd like to hock it
A young girl in a parkin' lot
was preaching to a crowd,
singing sacred songs
and reading from the bible.
well, i told her i was lost
and she told all about the pentecost,
and i seen that girl as the road to my survival,
my survival.
Just later on
the very same night
when i crept to her tent with a flashlight
and my long years of innocence ended:
well, she took me to the woods,
sayin' "here comes something, and it feels so good!",
and just like a dog i was befriended, i was befriended.
Oh, oh, what a night,
oh, what a garden of delight ...
even now that sweet memory lingers:
i was playing my guitar
lyin' underneath the stars
just thankin' the lord
for my fingers,
for my fingers ...
Corregir Letra
Corregir Letra
Couple in the next room bound to win a prize: they've been going at it all night long! well, i'm tryin' to get some sleep but these motel walls are cheap: lincoln duncan is my name, and here's my song, here's my song. My father was a fisherman, my mama was a fisherman's friend, and i was born in the boredom and the chowder. so when i reached my prime i left my home in the maritimes, headed down the turnpike for new england, sweet new england. Holes in my confidence, holes in the knees of my jeans, i was left without a penny in my pocket .... oo-oowee, i was about as destituted as a kid could be and i wished i wore a ring so i could hock it ... i'd like to hock it A young girl in a parkin' lot was preaching to a crowd, singing sacred songs and reading from the bible. well, i told her i was lost and she told all about the pentecost, and i seen that girl as the road to my survival, my survival. Just later on the very same night when i crept to her tent with a flashlight and my long years of innocence ended: well, she took me to the woods, sayin' "here comes something, and it feels so good!", and just like a dog i was befriended, i was befriended. Oh, oh, what a night, oh, what a garden of delight ... even now that sweet memory lingers: i was playing my guitar lyin' underneath the stars just thankin' the lord for my fingers, for my fingers ...
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