i-songtexte.com | Songtext/Lyric Pockets von Beautiful-South
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Beautiful South
Pockets
Here comes Pockets His trousers hold a thousand deadly sins The maddest things we ever found in bins He clutches them and looks at you and grins
Here comes Pockets The children wary of what they may contain
The linen may have changed, the contents same A trouser-treasure island with no name
And socially at the platform that the timetable forgot Picking up used tickets in a station of have-nots When youre on that train of thought You pass some pretty funky stops When youre on that train of thought You pass some pretty funky stops Thats the Pocket, let him be - Thats the Pocket, let him be
Here comes Pockets Picking up the things we cannot see A bicycle, a dame, a Christmas tree Things of no value to you or me
Here comes the Pocket Reduced through history to just a crawl History turns the tall into the small But natural born trawlers love to trawl
And the guitar of his dreams hangs upon some wall Or laying underneath the staircase in a hall We can carry dreams but we cant hold them all Thats why we learn the Blues before we actually fall Thats the Pocket, let him be Thats the Pocket, let him be
And hes clinging on to hope Like the oak tree to the gale Cause finding one love letter in a sky high jumble sale Is one single reason, why the Pocket will not fail
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