Hello racket, my old friend, I'm forced to hear you roar again Because a truck loudly creeping left a crew while I was sleeping And the rumble that was planted in my brain still remains.It's the sound of landscaping.In restless dreams, I walked alone, Narrow streets of gravel stone, 'Neath the halo of a street lamp Racers roared in the cold and damp When my ears were stabbed by the blare of a big truck horn That split the morn.
[
add
]
[
|
|
...
]