Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: Soundtrack Artists. Don't Do Sadness / Blue Wind.


MORITZ
Aweful sweet to be a little butterfly.
Just wingin' over things
And nothing deep inside.
Nothing goin', goin' wild in you, you know.
You're slowing by the riverside,
Or floatin' high and blue.

Or may be cool to be a little summer wind.
Like once through everything
And then away again.
With the taste of dust in your mouth all day
But no need to know.
Like sadness, you just sail away.

'Cuz you know I don't do sadness,
Not even a little bit.
Just don't need it in my life.
Don't want any part of it.
I don't do sadness.
Hey, I've done my time
Lookin' back on it all.
Man, it blows my mind.
I don't do sadness,
So been there.
Don't do sadness,
Just don't care.

(Scene)

ILSE
Spring and summer ev?ry other day
Blue wind gets so sad
Blowin? through the thick corn,
Through the bales of hay,
Through the open books on the grass
Spring and summer

Sure, when it?s autumn
Wind always wants to
Creep up and haunt you
Whistlin? it?s got you
With its heartache, with its sorrow
Winter wind sings and it cries

Spring and summer ev?ry other day

Blue wind gets so pained
Blowin? through the thick corn,
Through the bales of hay,
Through the sudden drift of the rain
Spring and summer.

(Scene)

MORITZ
So maybe I should be some kind of laundry line.
Hang their things on me
And I will swing 'em dry.
You're just wavin' the sun throught the afternoon,
And then see, they come to set you free
Beneath the risin' moon.

MORIZ (With ILSE)
'Cuz you know I don't do sadness,
Not even a little bit.
Just don't need it in my life.
Don't want any part of it.
I don't do sadness.
Hey, I've done my time
Lookin' back on it all.
Man, it blows my mind.
I don't do sadness,
So been there.
Don't do sadness,
Just don't care.

ILSE (With MORITZ)
Spring and summer ev?ry other day
Blue wind gets so lost
Blowin? through the thick corn,
Through the bales of hay

Spring and summer ev?ry other day
Blue wind gets so lost
Blowin? through the thick corn,
Through the bales of hay,
Through the wandering clouds of the dust
Spring and summer