الكلمات
كلمات للدراسة
The enemy is at the door
The enemy within.
Dressed up in the strangest clothes,
Smells of drinking Bombay gin.
There's a deadman walking
And his shadow's growing long.
There's a deadman walking
Taking it in
Before his time is gone.
My father was a Russian Jew
My Irish mother crazy.
I see summer, winter, fall.
When grown men
Cry like babies.
