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Elton John
Elton John


Информация
Настоящее имя Reginald Kenneth Dwight
Дата рождения 25 марта 1947 г.
Место рождения Pinner, Middlesex, England
Жанры Glam Rock
Soft Rock
Годы 1964—н.в.
Лейблы Island Records
Geffen Records
Mercury Records
Interscope Records
MCA Records
Uni Records
Сайт Website



Альбом Elton John


Rock Of The Westies (1975)
1975
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Music by Elton John and Davey Johnstone
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Yell help, too many cooks and a bird in the bush, yell help
Yell help, if your mirror busts and your cat gets cussed, yell help
`Cause down the road you find someone else who's looking
Down the road you find another sweet lady cooking
So I gotta yell help

Yell help, some shelter from the storm like the travel agent warned
Yell help, if you can help your superstitions they gonna keep you warm
`Cause down the road you find someone else who's looking
Down the road you seen another sweet lady cooking
So I gotta yell help

I wish tonight wasn't Wednesday night
I wish it wasn't the thirteenth of July, yell help
And you're looking at the guy whose eyes can't deny
That he wishes he were somewhere else tonight

Well I met this woman down in New Orleans
Lord she built just like a dream
Even wore stockings that had seams
And she was ugly

Now hell I don't mind women of her kind
I'll even pay sometimes for a woman that's ugly

She built like a steamroller
Just the kind to mow you over anytime
Hey the moment might arrive

On Bourbon Street
Well the ugliest woman you'll ever meet
But she's mine all mine and she's ugly
So I better yell help

. . .


Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Can you tell me how old Dan might have done it
If he'd been here now, holy cow
My stars might have been read on the planet Mars
Because I don't have foresight to see
If we still be together in the twenty first
In the twenty first century

He's our flying ace, pilot of the future
In an endless space, holy cow
My eyes never saw a rocket that was quite that size
Because I don't have the energy
To be cat and mouse for the champions
For the champions of destiny

So long captain Dan
I fail to see what motivates your hands
Goodbye restless night
You know I loved Dan Dare, but I couldn't make his flight
So long, so long

Dan Dare doesn't know it
He doesn't know it
He doesn't know it
But I liked the Mekon


. . .


Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

I see your teeth flash, Jamaican honey so sweet
Down where Lexington cross 47th Street
She's a big girl, she's standing six foot three
Turning tricks for the dudes in the big city

Island girl
What you wanting with the white man's world
Island girl
Black boy want you in his island world
He want to take you from the racket boss
He want to save you but the cause is lost
Island girl, island girl, island girl
Tell me what you wanting with the white man's world

She's black as coal but she burn like a fire
And she wrap herself around you like a well worn tire
You feel her nail scratch your back just like a rake
He one more gone, he one more John who make the mistake

. . .


Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Yeah I looked at my watch and it said a quarter to five
The headlines screamed that I was still alive
I couldn't understand it
I thought I died last night

Oh I dreamed I'd been in a border town
In a little cantina that the boys had found
I was desperate to dance
Just to dig the local sounds

When along came a señorita
She looked so good that I had to meet her
I was ready to approach her with my English charm
When her brass knuckled boyfriend grabbed me by the arm

And he said grow some funk of your own amigo
Grow some funk of your own
We no like to with the gringo fight
But there might be a death in Mexico tonight
If you can't grow some funk of your own amigo
Grow some funk of your own
Take my advice, take the next flight
And grow your funk, grow your funk at home

Well I looked for support from the rest of my friends
For their vanishing trick they get ten out of ten
I knelt to pray
Just to see if he would comprehend

. . .


Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Like a corn in a field I cut you down
I threw the last punch too hard
After years of going steady, well I thought that it was time
To throw in my hand for a new set of cards

And I can't take you dancing out on the weekend
I figured we'd painted too much of this town
And I tried not to look as I walked to my wagon
And I knew then I had lost what should have been found
I knew then I had lost what should have been found

And I feel like a bullet in the gun of Robert Ford
I'm low as a paid assassin is
You know I'm cold as a hired sword
I'm so ashamed can't we patch it up
You know I can't think straight no more
You make me feel like a bullet honey in the gun of Robert Ford

Like a child when his toys have been stepped on
That's how it all seemed to me
I burst the bubble that both of us lived in
And I'm damned if I'll ever get rid of this guilt that I feel

And if looks could kill then I'd be a dead man
Your friends and mine don't call no more
Hell, I thought it was best but now I feel branded
Breaking up's sometimes like breaking the law
Breaking up's sometimes like breaking the law

. . .


Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

They must have had the whole thing planned
There must have been a hundred
If we make a stand
I think we'll be outnumbered
If I'd had the chance
Then I could understand
Why I'm a juvenile delinquent
In an East End gang

And if you think you've seen gasoline burning in my eyes
Don't be alarmed, tell yourself it's good to be, it's good to be alive

It's just another street kid on your tail
Running on the wrong side of the rails
With my boot lace tie and my hand-me-downs
You know I run the toughest bunch this side of town
Those street kids making news just being around

I've been bottled and been brained
Squealers can't be trusted
If we fight tonight
You can bet we'll all be busted
I'd like to break away
From the rut I'm in
But beggars can't be choosers
And I was born to sin

Let's hear it for the street kids
Making news just being around

. . .


Written by Ann Orson and Carte Blanche

Sometimes I think I'm going crazy
Staring at the same four walls
Waiting for the working day to end
Then I get home so wasted, worn out
I curse at you and tell you
How I've done the work of ten to fifteen men
How I've struggled for my money
Sweated blood to get us by, yeah
Well I'm tired of it honey
Think I'm gonna have to leave here for a while

All you hear are hard luck stories
And the ways I look at life
And the way I think the world treats me
And the way I treat my wife

I never seem to look at you
And see that somewhere underneath
A pair of tired eyes are crying out
Well you know I work hard all day long
Let me kiss you once with meaning
Just to kill this nagging doubt
Well you don't deny I do you proud
And you expect me to be tired
You say there's no future in our lives
While I persist I'm putting out the fire

All you hear are hard luck stories
Just a few well chosen words
`Cause you're still the woman of a working man
You've got the heart of a working girl

. . .


Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Don't close the shades
I'm scared of the darkness
I'm cold as a razor blade
Inches from madness

Don't let me sleep here
They're all trying to kill me
I've seen the walls moving
They've all heard me screaming, screaming

Feed me
Feed my needs and then just leave me
Let me go back where you found me
`Cause I miss my basement
The sweet smell of new paint
The warmth and the comforts of home
So feed me
Give me my treatment and free me
My arms are so hungry so feed me

The room's so distorted
And filled with mad shadows
I feel like a carcass
White like a marrow bone

It all seems so long ago
I remember them laughing
I heard the ambulance scream
I saw the red light flashing, flashing

. . .


Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Take the wheel I hear the timbers creaking
Take the wheel I think this ship is sinking
Jamaica seems so far and I've been thinking
Old Billy Bones has gone to sea and quit his dockside drinking

Check it out, check it out, check it out

And when I'm dead who'll fly the White Bird home
I'm not the ancient mariner your children know
And the sea's the field these old jack tars have sown
`Cause Billy Bones just wants to know who'll fly the White Bird home

Oh your majesty, your majesty
I heard the bosun cry
Old Billy Bones has washed ashore
Upon a foreign tide

. . .


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