Benutzer:Croaton/Experimentierseite4

There's a young man with a gun
Young man lost his honey
When she took it on the run
Chor: Commala-come-come!
She took it on the run!
Lefter her baby lonely but
her baby ain't done.

Da ist ein junger Mann mit einem Revolver
Der junge Mann hat seine Liebste verloren
Als sie über alle Berge floh
Chor: Commala-komm-komm!
Sie floh über alle Berge!
Ließ ihr Baby allein zurück, aber
ihr Baby ist noch nicht fertig.

The wind'll blow ya through.
Ya gotta go where Ka's wind blows ya
Cause there's nothin else to do
Chor: Commala-come-two!
Nothin else to do!
Gotta go where ka's wind blows ya
Cause there's nothing else to do

Can ya tell me what ya see?
Is it ghosts or just the mirror
That makes ya want to flee?
Chor: Commala-come-three!
I beg ya, tell me!
Is it ghosts or just your darker self
That makes ya want to flee?

Whatcha doin at my do'?
If you doan tell me now, my friend
I'll lay ya on de flo'.
Chor: Commala-come fo'!
I can lay ya low!
The things i done to such as you
You never want to know.

Ain't it grand to be alive?
To look out on Discordia
When the Demon Moon arrives.
Chor: Commala-come-five!
Even when the shadows rise!
To see the world and walk the world
Makes ya glad to be alive.

You're in a nasty fix!
To take the hand in a traitor's glove
Is to grasp a shef of sticks!
Chor: Commala-come-six!
Nothing there but thorns and sticks!
When you find your hand in a traitor's glove
You're in a nasty fix

They go to hell or up to heaven!
When the guns are shot and the fire's hot,
You got to poke em in the oven
Chor: Commala-come-seven!
Salt and yow' for leaven
Heat em up and knock em down
And poke em in the oven

you're in the hands of fate.
no matter you're real or not
the hour groweth late.
Chor: Commala-come-eight!
The hour groweth late!
No matt what the shade ya cast
You're in the hands of fate.

You have to walk the line.
When you finally get the thing you need
It makes you feel so fine.
Chor: Commala-come-nine!
It makes ya feel fine!
But if you'd have the thing you need
You have to walk the line.

It's the other one again.
You may know her name and face
But that don't make her your friend
Chor: Commala-come-ten!
She is not your friend!
If you let her get too close
She'll cut you up again.

We hail the one who made us all,
who made the men and made the maids,
Who made the great and small.
Chor: Commala-come-call!
He made the great and small!
And yet how great the hand of fate
That rules us one and all.

There's a time to live and one to die.
With your back agasint the final wall
Ya gotta let the bullets fly.
Chor: Commala-come ki!
Let the bullets fly!
Don't 'ee mourn for me, my lads
When it comes my day to die.

The child has come at last!
Sing your song, O sing it well,
The child has come to pass.
Chor: Commala-come-kass,
The worst has come to pass.
The Tower trembles on its ground;
The child has come at last