P.J. Harvey The Wind текст песни, слова песни The Wind P.J. Harvey
P.J. Harvey - The Wind
High up on the hills
A place for making noises
Noises like the Whales
Here she built a chapel with
Her image on the wall
A place where she could rest and
A place where she could wash
and listen to the wind blow
She dreamt of children's voices
And torture on the wheel
Patron-Saint of nothing
A woman of the hills
She once was a lady
Of pleasure, and high-born
A lady of the city
But now she sits and moans
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