Josephine - Live at Warsaw Sala Kongresawa 17th March 2006 Lyrics
| Song | Josephine - Live at Warsaw Sala Kongresawa 17th March 2006 |
| Artist | Chris Rea |
| Album | The Road To Hell And Back |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Keaton Simons - Joseph | |
| Joseph was a child of light | |
| He never disappeared | |
| Standing up on dim lit stages | |
| Shielded by his tears | |
| Though he was not a lonesome one | |
| His loneliest surprise | |
| Was trapped in unseen reservoirs | |
| Whose borders were his eyes | |
| Lylah never quite broke in | |
| Never got too used to life | |
| Standing up on podiums | |
| Her words cut like a knife | |
| But when confronted with her skin | |
| Irrelevant, she'd say | |
| If only I'd been born a bird | |
| I'd fly them all away | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ‘Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| Lula Belle was walkin' home | |
| Beneath the crimson sky | |
| A cool dry wind began to blow | |
| She could feel it in her eyes | |
| She came to get some fresh supplies | |
| From an undercover cop | |
| A box with biohazard signs | |
| Is where she makes the drop | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ‘Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| Franklin was a camera man | |
| A teleprompter scribe | |
| Every night he tamed his hand | |
| Just to give it one more try | |
| He never had to write the lies | |
| He just had to spell them right | |
| Said if people knew what I do | |
| They'd be in the streets tonight | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ‘Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ‘Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| People gotta die |
| Keaton Simons Joseph | |
| Joseph was a child of light | |
| He never disappeared | |
| Standing up on dim lit stages | |
| Shielded by his tears | |
| Though he was not a lonesome one | |
| His loneliest surprise | |
| Was trapped in unseen reservoirs | |
| Whose borders were his eyes | |
| Lylah never quite broke in | |
| Never got too used to life | |
| Standing up on podiums | |
| Her words cut like a knife | |
| But when confronted with her skin | |
| Irrelevant, she' d say | |
| If only I' d been born a bird | |
| I' d fly them all away | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| Lula Belle was walkin' home | |
| Beneath the crimson sky | |
| A cool dry wind began to blow | |
| She could feel it in her eyes | |
| She came to get some fresh supplies | |
| From an undercover cop | |
| A box with biohazard signs | |
| Is where she makes the drop | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| Franklin was a camera man | |
| A teleprompter scribe | |
| Every night he tamed his hand | |
| Just to give it one more try | |
| He never had to write the lies | |
| He just had to spell them right | |
| Said if people knew what I do | |
| They' d be in the streets tonight | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| People gotta die |
| Keaton Simons Joseph | |
| Joseph was a child of light | |
| He never disappeared | |
| Standing up on dim lit stages | |
| Shielded by his tears | |
| Though he was not a lonesome one | |
| His loneliest surprise | |
| Was trapped in unseen reservoirs | |
| Whose borders were his eyes | |
| Lylah never quite broke in | |
| Never got too used to life | |
| Standing up on podiums | |
| Her words cut like a knife | |
| But when confronted with her skin | |
| Irrelevant, she' d say | |
| If only I' d been born a bird | |
| I' d fly them all away | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| Lula Belle was walkin' home | |
| Beneath the crimson sky | |
| A cool dry wind began to blow | |
| She could feel it in her eyes | |
| She came to get some fresh supplies | |
| From an undercover cop | |
| A box with biohazard signs | |
| Is where she makes the drop | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| Franklin was a camera man | |
| A teleprompter scribe | |
| Every night he tamed his hand | |
| Just to give it one more try | |
| He never had to write the lies | |
| He just had to spell them right | |
| Said if people knew what I do | |
| They' d be in the streets tonight | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| I got a problem with right or wrong | |
| ' Cause it changes all the time | |
| The weakest ones are acting strong | |
| So people gotta die | |
| People gotta die |
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