Il mio ragazzo fabbrica bare

My boy builds coffin with hammers and nails,
He doesn’t build ships, he has no use for sails.
He doesn’t make tables, dressers, or chairs.
He can’t carve a whistle ‘cause he just doesn’t care.

My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor,
Kings and queens have all knocked on his door.
Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves,
They all come to him ‘cause he’s so eager to please.

My boy builds coffins, he makes them all day,
But it’s not just for work and it isn’t for play.
He’s made one for himself, one for me too.
One of these days he’ll make one for you.

My boy builds coffins for better or worse.
Some say it’s a blessing, some say it’s a curse.
He fits them together in sunshine or rain.
Each one is unique, no two are the same.

My boy builds coffins, and I think it’s a shame
That when each one’s been made he can’t see it again.
He crafts every one with love and with care,
Then it’s thrown in the ground and it just isn’t fair.

My boy builds coffins, he makes them all day,
But it’s not just for work and it isn’t for play.
He’s made one for himself, one for me too,
And one of these days he’ll make one for you.

[ My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence + The Machine ]

C’è bisogno di aggiungere altro sul perché Florence Welch sia diventata uno dei miei nuovi idoli?