Текст: David Gray. Foundling. Gossamer Thread.

Talking with the old folks by the wall
And dreaming 'bout New Orleans in the fall
And grateful for the time that God allows
And doing your best to keep it hid
Hanging by a gossamer thread

Roll on up, it's feeding time again
A kiss to suck the lightning from the pain
I'm hatching us a plan for busting out
And free of what that bastard did
Hanging by a gossamer thread

All lit up like the National Grid
And hanging by a gossamer thread
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Choking on your daily bread
Hanging by a gossamer thread

Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool, away

Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool, away

Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool, away

Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool
Dog in the doorway
Dyed in the wool, away

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah

I hope that I'm wrong
I hope that I'm wrong
I hope that I'm wrong
Yeah

I hope that I'm wrong
Hope that I'm wrong
I hope that I'm wrong
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah