Wahrscheinlich Roger Millers traurigster Titel,
ein Stück aus der Sicht eines Selbstmörders.
(Spoken)
Well, I think I finally found me a sure-fire way to forget;
It’s so simple, I’m surprised I hadn’t done thought of it
before yet.
It’s foolproof well it’s foolhardy, maybe, but who knows --
Anyway, here I am, walkin’ down toward where the cold,
dark water flows.
All it takes is...
One dyin’ and a buryin’, one dyin’ and a buryin’
Some cryin’, six carryin’ me, I wanta to be free.
(Spoken)
Oh-ho, I wanta be free, free from all this heartache and
regret,
And free from pinin’ for the love I can’t forget.
The love that once was warm and then just somehow
turned to hate,
Made my life a prison from which there’s only one escape
That’s...
One dyin’ and a buryin’, one dyin’ and a buryin’
Some cryin’, six carryin’ me, I wanta to be free.
One dyin’ and a buryin’, one dyin’ and a buryin’
Some cryin’, six carryin’ me... I wanta to be free.
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