Bob Dylan - Santa Fe текст песни

Santa-fe,

Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear santa-fe,

My woman needs it evryday,

She promised this a-lad shed stay,

Shes rollin up a lotta bread

To toss away.

Shes in santa-fe,

Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear santa-fe

Now shes opened up an old maids home,

Shes proud, but she needs to roam,

Shes gonna write herself a roadside poem,

About santa-fe.

Santa-fe,

Dear, dear, dear, dear santa-fe.

Since Im never gonna cease to roam,

Im never, ever far from home,

But Ill build a geodesic dome

And sail away.

Dont feel bad.

No, no, no, no, dont feel bad

Its the best food Ive ever had.

Makes me feel so glad

That shes cooking in a home-made pad

She never caught a cold so bad

When Im away.

Santa-fe,

Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear santa-fe.

My shrimp boats in the bay

I wont have my nature this way,

And Im leanin on the wheel each day

To drift away

From santa-fe,

Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear santa-fe.

My sister looks good at home,

Shes lickin on an ice cream cone,

Shes packin her big white comb,

What does it weigh?