Like the old rusty wheels
Of a church tower clock
Slowly catching up minutes
As the days make them drop
Running time down is my job
Poor old beggar
Doesn’t care to wait or stop
In a sun stricken desert
Grows a heartbroken rose
Where the days of the fires
Make the nights freezing cold
Running time down is my job
Poor old beggar
Doesn’t care to wait or stop.
Pregled privatnosti
Ova web stranica koristi kolačiće kako bismo vam mogli pružiti najbolje moguće korisničko iskustvo. Informacije o kolačićima pohranjuju se u vašem pregledniku i obavljaju funkcije kao što su prepoznavanje vas kada se vratite na našu web stranicu i pomoć našem timu da shvati koji su vam dijelovi web stranice najzanimljiviji i najkorisniji.
