Tytuł: At The Hundredth Meridian
- Wykonawca: Tragically Hip
- Wy¶wietleń: 425
And take my life in my hands?
Where the Great Plains begin at the hundredth meridian
At the hundredth meridian where the Great Plains begin
Driving down a corduroy road,
Weeds standing shoulder high
Ferris wheel is rusting off in the distance
[Chorus]
At the hundredth meridian
At the hundredth meridian
At the hundredth meridian where the great plains begin
Left alone to get gigantic
Hard, huge, and haunted
A generation so much dumber than it's parents
Came crashing through the window
A raven strains along the line of the road
Carrying a muddy, old skull the wires show their approval
Off down the distance
[Chorus]
I remember, I remember buffalo And I remember Hengelo
It would seem to me
I remember every single fucking thing I know
[
If I die of Vanity, promise me, promise me
That if they bury me some place I don't want to be
That you'll dig me up and transport me
Unceremoniously away from the swollen city breeze, garbage bag trees
Whispers of disease, and acts of enormity
And lower me slowly, sadly, and properly
Get Ry Cooder to sing my eulogy
[Chorus]
Where the Great Plains begin at
The hundredth meridian
At the hundredth meridian where the Great Plains begin
Driving down a corduroy road,
Weeds standing shoulder high
Ferris wheel is rusting off in the distance
[Chorus]
At the hundredth meridian
At the hundredth meridian
At the hundredth meridian where the great plains begin
Left alone to get gigantic
Hard, huge, and haunted
A generation so much dumber than it's parents
Came crashing through the window
A raven strains along the line of the road
Carrying a muddy, old skull the wires show their approval
Off down the distance
[Chorus]
I remember, I remember buffalo And I remember Hengelo
It would seem to me
I remember every single fucking thing I know
If I die of Vanity, promise me, promise me
That if they bury me some place I don't want to be
That you'll dig me up and transport me
Unceremoniously away from the swollen city breeze, garbage bag trees
Whispers of disease, and acts of enormity
And lower me slowly, sadly, and properly
Get Ry Cooder to sing my eulogy
[Chorus]
