Текст песни: The Decemberists - Grace Cathedral Hill








Grace Cathedral hill, all wrapped in the
bones of a setting sun, all dust and stone
and moribund. I paid twenty-five cents to
light a little white candle for New Year`s
Day. I sat and watched it burn away then
turned and weaved through the slow decay.
We were both a little hungry so we went
to get a hotdog down the Hyde St. Pier. [b]The light was slight and dissapeared.[/b] The air, it sunk of fish and beer. We heard
a superman trumpet play the National
Anthem.

And the world may be long for you, but he`ll
never belong to you. But on a motorbike, when
all the city lights blind your eyes, are you
feeling better now?

Some way to greet the year: your eyes all
bright and brimmed with tears. The
pilgrims, pills and tourist here all sing
"Fifty three bucks to buy a brand new halo."
I`m sweet on a green-eyed girl, all fiery
Irish clip and curl, all brine and piss and
vinegar. I paid twenty-five vents to light a little white candle.

And the world maybe be long for you, but he`ll
never belong to you. But on a motorbike, when
all the city lights blind your eyes, are you
feeling better now?

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Grace Cathedral hill, all wrapped in the
bones of a setting sun, all dust and stone
and moribund. I paid twenty-five cents to
light a little white candle for New Year`s
Day. I sat and watched it burn away then
turned and weaved through the slow decay.
We were both a little hungry so we went
to get a hotdog down the Hyde St. Pier. [b]The light was slight and dissapeared.[/b] The air, it sunk of fish and beer. We heard
a superman trumpet play the National
Anthem.

And the world may be long for you, but he`ll
never belong to you. But on a motorbike, when
all the city lights blind your eyes, are you
feeling better now?

Some way to greet the year: your eyes all
bright and brimmed with tears. The
pilgrims, pills and tourist here all sing
"Fifty three bucks to buy a brand new halo."
I`m sweet on a green-eyed girl, all fiery
Irish clip and curl, all brine and piss and
vinegar. I paid twenty-five vents to light a little white candle.

And the world maybe be long for you, but he`ll
never belong to you. But on a motorbike, when
all the city lights blind your eyes, are you
feeling better now?

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