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Terry Reid 1968 |
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Have you ever ridden horses through a rainstorm? |
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Or a lion through a busy street bazarre? |
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There are many things |
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I'd love to turn you on to |
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But somehow |
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I feel they're safer where they are |
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Yes, there's a man |
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I know With no expression |
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He's got none at all |
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Yes, there's a man that |
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I know With no expression, darling |
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He's got none at all |
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Well, some people are inbound with infatuation |
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And some others spill depression as the law |
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From one's mother getting at no imagination |
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So beware then, maybe sin is at your door |
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Yes, there's a man that |
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I know With no expression |
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He's got none at all |
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Yes, there's a man |
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I know With no expression |
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He's got none at all |
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But you may never, never |
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See this man laughing |
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Come to think of it, |
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I've never seen him cry |
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But he might be sitting |
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And you hear him singing |
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And by and by he'll stop and sigh |
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Before his voice would even begin to speak |
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And he'd just cry |
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Yes, There's a man |
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I know With no expression, darling |
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He's got none at all |
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Yes, There's a man that |
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I know With no expression |
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He's got none at all |
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Have you ever, ever ridden horses through a rainstorm? |
|
Or a lion through a busy street bazarre? |
|
There are many things |
|
I'd love to turn you on to |
|
But somehow |
|
I feel they're safer where they are |
|
Yes, There's a man that |
|
I know With no expression |
|
He's got none at all |
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There's a man that |
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I know With no expression |
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He's got none at all |
