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• Artiste: Plains
• Titre: Bellafatima
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Her face read like Anna Karenina She was strong as that old gypsum weed And oh she could dance like a blind beggars hand Just waiting for someone to see She spoke like a hard night in Beaumont Carried on like the old Suwannee And she came along like a ravenous song So hungry for someone to sing The days turned like cowards So swiftly to the hour of need And I'll be a martyr to whatever your heartache Will leave Then I'll slip through your hands like a boy Born with no name Her eyes they were set like a cannon And boy, they'd blow you away And she'd cross your mind Like a cheap box of wine Where each sip is like a track switch and train She swore like a dry county welder She's pry on the side seldom seen And she could make love like Augusta Road And just buckle like the bends in a creek The days turned like cowards So swiftly to the hour of need And I'll be a martyr to whatever your heartache Will leave Then I'll slip through your hands like a boy Born with no name The days turned like cowards So swiftly to the hour of need And I'll be a martyr to whatever your heartache Will leave Then I'll slip through your hands like a boy Born with no name