emmilou is pretty,
emmilou is fine,
and I wonder, I wonder
what’s on her mind.
I saw her twice in the „royal blue” café,
emmilou is pretty
and I’m a little bit scared.
I go every sunday,
I come alone hoping to find her.
a woman at the door,
she smiles and then... she’s gone,
and I am still waiting,
emmilou–she hasn’t come.
oh, it frightens me–
–should i come back to my town?
call me now, and I’ll be coming.
call me–do–and i won’t be going.
oh, shall we meet someday
in a „royal blue” café,
emmilou is pretty–and I’m a little bit
scared.
emmilou is fine, emmilou.[2]
1. |
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2. |
http://edytabartosiewicz.net/ |
3. |
http://www.polskirock.art.pl/ |