Текст песни
Sometimes i just can t but help but wonder who this man is, saving nothing for himself Mariano, a lifetime from this room
His name is mariano, and if when he is gone will he ll remember me at all
I look outside my window, sometimes i just can t but help but wonder who this man is
The border guards they came one day and took him far away, i look outside my window Mariano, and if when he is gone will he ll remember me at all
Their prayers are all but answered by his letters in the mail, it s been a while since i have seen the face of mariano
There on the horizon, a lifetime from this room Earl, he says that he comes from a place not far from guanajuato
i ve never been the sort to say i m in to intuition
it s been a while since i have seen the face of mariano
There on the horizon, there on the horizon
their eyes void of expression
i fix his meals and talk to him in my old broken spanish
mariano s silhouette
I know my charts i know that he is thinking of his home, the man outside he works for me
their prayers are all but answered by his letters in the mail
When the day is ended, it s been a while since i have seen the face of mariano, i ve never been the sort to say i m in to intuition
innocent as crying from a baby being born
thats two days on a bus from here
but i swear i see the faces of the ones he calls his own
He only stops to take a drink and smoke a cigarette, thats two days on a bus from here, their dreams are all but gone
his name is mariano
their eyes void of expression
He only stops to take a drink and smoke a cigarette, he only stops to take a drink and smoke a cigarette, saving nothing for himself
their prayers are all but answered by his letters in the mail
I look outside my window, i hope that he is safe down there at home in guanajuato Robert, he sits upon a stone in a south-easterly direction
the border guards they came one day and took him far away
Their dreams are all but gone, he says that he comes from a place not far from guanajuato, the man outside he works for me
But i swear i see the faces of the ones he calls his own, thats two days on a bus from here, he says that he comes from a place not far from guanajuato
I look outside my window, their hair is black as widow s dreams
i hope that he is safe down there at home in guanajuato
i ve never been the sort to say i m in to intuition
mariano s silhouette
When the day is ended, when the day is ended Keen, when the day is ended
Thats two days on a bus from here, their hair is black as widow s dreams
The man outside he works for me, the man outside he works for me, their dreams are all but gone
I ve never been the sort to say i m in to intuition, i know my charts i know that he is thinking of his home
I hope that he is safe down there at home in guanajuato, he sends them colored figures that he cuts from strips of paper
He only stops to take a drink and smoke a cigarette, he cuts and trims the grass for me he makes the flowers bloom
They re ancient as a vision of a sacrificial virgin, i know my charts i know that he is thinking of his home
They hover around a dying flame and pray for his protection, their prayers are all but answered by his letters in the mail
Saving nothing for himself, i look outside my window
he sits upon a stone in a south-easterly direction
the border guards they came one day and took him far away
he says that he comes from a place not far from guanajuato
sometimes i just can t but help but wonder who this man is
and if when he is gone will he ll remember me at all
I look outside my window, it s been a while since i have seen the face of mariano
I know my charts i know that he is thinking of his home, i worry though i read there s revolution every day