Оригинален текст
I wanna make
Something beautiful
For you and from you
To show you
To show you
I adore you
Oh you
And your journey
Toward me
Which I see
And I see
All you push through
Mad for you
And because of you
I couldn't thank you in ten thousand years
If I cried ten thousand rivers of tears
Ah, but you know the soul
And you know what make it gold
You give life through blood.
Oh I wanna make something
So lovely for you
'Cos I promised that's what I'd do for you
With the Bible I stole
I know you forgave my soul because
Such was my need on a
Chronic Christmas Eve
And I think we're agreed
That it should have been free
And you sang to me
They dress the wounds of my poor people
As thought they're nothing
Saying, "Peace, peace"
When there's no peace.
They dress the wounds of my poor people
As thought they're nothing
Saying, "Peace, peace"
When there's no peace.
Days without number.
Days without number.
Now can a bride forget her jewels?
Or a maid her ornaments?
Yet my people forgotten me.
Days without number.
Days without number.
And in their want
Oh in their want
And in their want
Who'll dress their wounds?
Who'll dress their wounds?