Cornelis vreeswijk somliga går med trasiga skor
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Somliga går tillsammans trasiga fotbeklädnad
Translation:
Some walk with torn shoes say why is it so? God Father who lives in heaven, maybe wants it so
God Father who lives in heaven, closes his eyes and sleeps well. Who cares about a pair of torn shoes when you are old and tired
Who cares about how the days go by? They go as they please. Brother, in one hundred years, you'll no längre exist. Then somebody else have taken your place, you'll know nothing of it. You feel neither rain nor sun, down in your dark grave.
Who cares about how the nights go by? inom dont care a bit. As long as inom can keep my face buried in my love's hair.
I am a doubtful character, not good for much. Behind a corner death lurks, he takes me whenever he wants.
Some walk with torn shoes, until they walk no more. The Devil who lives in hell, gets himself a good laugh then
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Some (as in people) walk with broken shoes,
tell (me) why is it so
God father witch in heaven lives
Maybe wants it that way
God father witch in heaven lives,
closes his eyes and sleeps good.
Who cares about a pare of broken shoes,
when you're old and tired
Who cares about how the days passes,
they continue freely. (lit. wander as they want)
Citizens within hundred years,
you'll no longer exist
Then someone else has taken you're chair,
of that you know nothing
You feel neither rain or sun,
down in your dark grave
Who cares about how the nights passes,
i don't give damn.
As long as I have my appearance left,
hidden in my darlings hair.
I am an doubtful character
Who's not good for nothing.
Behind a corner the devils lurking.
He grabs me when he wants
Some walk with broken shoes,
until they have stopped walking.
The Devil that lives in Hell,
gets a good laugh then.
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Some walk in outworn shoes
say why that is
father god in heaven above
might have wanted it that way.
Father god in heaven above,
sleeps tight at night
Who cares about a pair of outworn shoes,
when you are old and sick
Who cares how the days go by
they wander as they want.
Citizen in one hundred years,
when you no longer exist.
Then someone else has taken your chair
that you don’t know of
you feel neither rain or the sun
down in your deep dark grave
who cares how the nights fly by
I don’t care at all
Just as long as I still have my face
Hidden in my lovers hair.
I am an doubtful figure.
Isn’t good for a lot.
Behind a corner is death waiting on.
He takes me when he wants.
Some walk in outworn shoes,
til they have stopped to walk.
The devil in hell below
might get a good laugh then.