Martha Tilston - Rolling текст песни

I'm rolling

We're rolling.

And we're rolling, we're rolling, we're rolling downhill

And we're rolling....downhill

Weaving through the southern roads,
to feel again.
Just for a harvest moon or so
no pig in a pen.
And we're rolling, we're rolling, we're rolling...downhill
And I like it, I like it, I like you...more still

Gather round to watch the hand fasting,
drinking our mead.
Saw you dancing to the violin,
my spirit was free
I was rolling, rolling rolling...downhill.
And I liked it, I liked it, I like you...more still

Why don't we just keep on driving?
Never return, never return.
Why don't we just keep on driving?
Never return, never return.

So weaving through the southern roads,
and we feel again.
Just for a harvest moon or so,
no pig in a pen
And we're rolling, we're rolling, we're rolling...downhill again.
And I like it, I like it, I like you...more still

more still