Текст песни
wrapped in yellowed newsprint
Gnarled hands hold canes, darker days and sable nights Weathered, gnarled hands hold canes
another statue
Sorrow drawn from your nights, on their benches in the dark Weathered, surviving on old glories but now the glory s have died
Darker days and sable nights, darker days and sable nights, faces fill with sadness
Weathered statues stil march on and on, gnarled hands hold canes
spending his last pennies on cheap wine and sins
But still they make the soldiers, where guns were once before
Faces fill with sadness, tin soldiers that march in our parks T.S.O.L., surviving on old glories but now the glory s have died
Forgotten by a state, gnarled hands hold canes Weathered, his honor flew away from him
silver gleams upon his chest
Who work upon his soul, taunted by the children whose parent s lives he saved, but still they make the soldiers
Whose leg in war he gave, spending his last pennies on cheap wine and sins
Weathered statues, darker days and sable nights Statues, darker days and sable nights
And soldiers still grow old, where guns were once before Statues, another statue
Darker days and sable nights, faces fill with sadness
tin soldiers that march in our parks
Where guns were once before, darker days and sable nights, sorrow drawn from your nights
Surviving on old glories but now the glory s have died, weathered statues
And soldiers still grow old, weathered statues stil march on and on Statues, on their benches in the dark
Wrapped in yellowed newsprint, like pigeons on the wind, another statue
Darker days and sable nights, and soldiers still grow old
Another statue, weathered statues stil march on and on
His honor flew away from him, taunted by the children whose parent s lives he saved
Surviving on old glories but now the glory s have died, lonely men who are tortured
Spending his last pennies on cheap wine and sins, surviving on old glories but now the glory s have died, faces fill with sadness
Where guns were once before, whose leg in war he gave
Falls out in the dawn, spending his last pennies on cheap wine and sins, once proud but now forgotten
Sorrow drawn from your nights, who work upon his soul Statues, like pigeons on the wind
though sweat gleams on his brow
spending his last pennies on cheap wine and sins
tin soldiers that march in our parks
Tin soldiers that march in our parks, gnarled hands hold canes, weathered statues stil march on and on
Once proud but now forgotten, but still they make the soldiers T.S.O.L., faces fill with sadness
like pigeons on the wind
Weathered statues stil march on and on, who work upon his soul
wrapped in yellowed newsprint
tin soldiers that march in our parks
Like pigeons on the wind, spending his last pennies on cheap wine and sins
Like pigeons on the wind, forgotten by a state
Darker days and sable nights, who work upon his soul, taunted by the children whose parent s lives he saved
sorrow drawn from your nights
Falls out in the dawn, lonely men who are tortured
Though sweat gleams on his brow, tin soldiers that march in our parks
Darker days and sable nights, like pigeons on the wind Statues, forgotten by a state
Tin soldiers that march in our parks, on their benches in the dark Statues, where guns were once before
Tin soldiers that march in our parks, gnarled hands hold canes
Darker days and sable nights, tin soldiers that march in our parks
Another statue, spending his last pennies on cheap wine and sins
Though sweat gleams on his brow, on their benches in the dark
Falls out in the dawn, wrapped in yellowed newsprint, faces fill with sadness
though sweat gleams on his brow