Текст песни Durrants

Our hotel room was too small For our luggage and our arguments So we left them in the hall And went to bed, went straight to bed When we wept in that cafe Trembling hands and whispered palliates All the people stared to say Your transgression, our transgression And we’re holding a love that’s passed In a drawer under last year’s stale cigarettes One that burned up the photograph We lived in Took me to a house of green Asked me, do you know how much it means? I tried hard to squint and see But felt nothing, I felt nothing In the morning on the street She suggested we try one last thing Maybe at some great museum A connection, our connection And we stared at the love that’s passed Onto white walls of Sargent portraits And remembered the photograph We lived in