IDES OF SWING | Тesto e Тraduzione (al clic)

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Some say April is the cruelest, and though I can be quite morose.

The stiff who penned it on a fool's list of those who are chronically verbose

When your head starts craning back

And your breath comes short and fast

The music of the spheres start to bounce and sing

That's when you know you're swinging

When your eyes roll back into your head

And the sap of the trees on your fingers have bled

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Andrew Bird – Ides of Swing testo e traduzione (al clic) in italiano