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Al Stewart
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On The Border
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Letra actual de la canción
The fishing boats go out across the evening water<br />Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border<br />The wind whips up the waves so loud<br />The ghost moon sails among the clouds<br />Turns the rifles into silver, on the border<br /><br />On my wall, the colors of the maps are running<br />From Africa, the winds, they talk of changes coming<br />The torches flare up in the night<br />The hand that sets the farms alight<br />Has spread the word to those who're waiting on the border<br /><br />In the village where I grew up<br />Nothing seems the same<br />Still you never see the change from day to day<br />No one notices the customs slip away<br /><br />Late last night the rain was knocking on my window<br />I moved across the darkened room and in the lamp-glow<br />I thought I saw down in the street<br />The spirit of the century<br />Telling us that we're all standing on the border<br /><br />In the islands where I grew up<br />Nothing seems the same<br />It's just the patterns that remain, an empty shell<br />But there's a strangeness in the air you feel too well<br /><br />The fishing boats go out across the evening water<br />Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border<br />The wind whips up the waves so loud<br />The ghost moon sails among the clouds<br />And turns the rifles into silver, on the border<br />On the border, on the border, on the border
Letra nueva de la canción
The fishing boats go out across the evening water<br />Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border<br />The wind whips up the waves so loud<br />The ghost moon sails among the clouds<br />Turns the rifles into silver, on the border<br /><br />On my wall, the colors of the maps are running<br />From Africa, the winds, they talk of changes coming<br />The torches flare up in the night<br />The hand that sets the farms alight<br />Has spread the word to those who're waiting on the border<br /><br />In the village where I grew up<br />Nothing seems the same<br />Still you never see the change from day to day<br />No one notices the customs slip away<br /><br />Late last night the rain was knocking on my window<br />I moved across the darkened room and in the lamp-glow<br />I thought I saw down in the street<br />The spirit of the century<br />Telling us that we're all standing on the border<br /><br />In the islands where I grew up<br />Nothing seems the same<br />It's just the patterns that remain, an empty shell<br />But there's a strangeness in the air you feel too well<br /><br />The fishing boats go out across the evening water<br />Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border<br />The wind whips up the waves so loud<br />The ghost moon sails among the clouds<br />And turns the rifles into silver, on the border<br />On the border, on the border, on the border
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