The wind and I, we speak the same but he don’t hear so well You’re gonna have to curse him well you’re gonna have to yell The sky and I, we’ve had our fights and I’m coming round to rain If the rain come round and it don’t go out then I’ll never have to speak again
Spanish weeks in my disco casino; the freedom fighters died upon the hill They sang the red flag, they wore the black one -but after they died, it was Mockingbird Hill