Woodcutters Son — текст песни (Paul Weller)

Sugartown has turned so sour

Its people angry in their sleep

Theres more small-town paranoia

Sweeping down its evil sheets -

You can tell its witching hour

You can feel the spirits rise

When the room goes very quiet

And theres hatred in their eyes -



You better give me the chance

Ill cut you down with a glance

Yeh, with my small axe - so help me,

And tho Im only one

And tho weak Im strong

And if it comes to the crunch

Then Im the woodcutters son



And Im cutting down the wood for the

Good of everyone!



Theres a silence when I enter

And a murmur when I leave

I can see their jealous faces

I can feel the ice they breathe