Iris Dement - Not With Deserters Şarkı Sözleri

Iris Dement şarkıcısının popüler şarkılarından Not With Deserters şarkısının sözlerini sizlerle paylaşıyoruz. Iris Dement - Not With Deserters Şarkı Sözleri sitemize 1 Kasım 2019 Cuma tarihinde admin tarafından eklenmiştir.

Not with deserters from the battle
That tears my land do I belong.
To their coarse praise I do not listen,
They shall not have from me one song.

Poor exile, you are like a prisoner to me
Or one upon a bed of sickness
Dark your road, O wanderer
Of wormwood smacks your alien bread

Here into smoke and fires that blacken,
Our lives, the last of youth, we throw
Who, in the years behind us, never
Sought to evade a single blow.

Poor exile, you are like a prisoner to me
Or one upon a bed of sickness
Dark your road, O wanderer
Of wormwood smacks your alien bread

We know that in the final reckoning
No hour will need apology
No people in the world are prouder
More tearless, simpler, than are we

Poor exile, you are like a prisoner to me
Or one upon a bed of sickness
Dark your road, O wanderer
Of wormwood smacks your alien bread