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• Artiste: 77 Bombay Street
• Titre: Indian
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There are ten wild horses feeding on the grass alone watched by an indian he tries to catch them all. With his eagle on his shoulder talking to the setting sun he waits fot the momentt for the night to come Hidden in the rocks, watching the horses how they run, they play in the river called bogos golden tongue sending out his eagle to show him where to go. It takes him to a foreign land he's never been before. RIT: I wished i were an indian and going with the wind; I can fly with the butterflies, no high-tech, no rainy eyes I'd love to be an indian in mother nature's paradise, no co2 in the air I wished I was there (x2) He awakes in the morning with the rising sun, his eagle and the horses, they went away, they're gone. He tries to find his way back home to where he once belonged, but the world has change into a place where something has gone wrong RIT: I wished I where an indian... This indian he's called tadero, he's the youngest son of big chief farero and i believe he's still alive in his beautiful paradise away from mother earth somewhere in the universe RIT: I wished I where an indian...(x2) (Grazie a Laura Menozzi per questo testo)