Текст: Mountain Goats, The. Going To Marrakesh.

the fog is lifting from the water.

the bells are sounding on the boats.

and our love is a monster plain and simple.

though you weight it down with stones to try to drown it,

it floats.

it floats.



the day of reckoning is coming

faster than anyone here realizes.

and our love is like jesus, but worse.

though you seal the cave up where you've lain its body,

it rises.

it rises.



i keep waiting for our love to die.

the machines by its bed dim and flicker, but it won't stay dead.

and it perks up when the nurses bring its medication by.



i wish our love could go the way of all flesh.

but it's not right, and its not nice

to try and kill the same thing twice.

would you pack your things?

we are going to marrakesh.