THE CROWSROADS • 3923706803 / 3404582812 • thecrowsroadsdate@gmail.com

ON THE ROPES

I’m lost here running
In the drizzling rain
I feel so bruised, so broken, shaken, choked
I’m hunted down again

I got caught red handed
In the market stands
When the cops told me to surrender
I rejected their command

I’m going crazy, it’s getting late, it’s getting darker
No chance to make it, I’m on the ropes, on every corner
I’ll be in jail before the dawn

In depressed quarters
I’ve learned to be a stud
I grew up slamming my wretched face
In every single pool of mud

You could find me friendly
But don’t call me “friend”
When you put something in your pocket
It’s like you put in my hands

I’m going crazy, it’s getting late, it’s getting darker
No chance to make it, I’m on the ropes, on every corner
I’ll be in jail before the dawn

I’m lost here running
In the drizzling rain
Feelin’ so bruised, so broken, shaken, choked
I’m hunted down again

I see the car lights
Breaking through the mist
I feel ’em breathing down my neck
I feel their shackles on my wrists

I’m going crazy, it’s getting late, it’s getting darker
No chance to make it, I’m on the ropes, on every corner
I’ll be in jail before the dawn

Click here for the translation in Italian

Here I am running
In this drizzle
I feel so bruised, so broken, shaken, strangled
They're chasing me again

I was caught red-handed
Among the market stalls
When the cops told me to surrender
I refused their order

I'm going crazy, it's getting late, it's getting dark
No hope of salvation, I'm cornered, on every corner
I'll be in jail before dawn

In these depressed neighborhoods
I learned to be tough
I grew up hitting my face
In every single mud puddle

I might seem friendly to you
But don't call me "friend"
When you put something in your pocket
It's like you're putting it in my hand

I'm going crazy, it's getting late, it's getting dark
No hope of salvation, I'm cornered, on every corner
I'll be in jail before dawn

Here I am running
In this drizzle
I feel so bruised, so broken, shaken, strangled
They're chasing me again

I see the car headlights
Piercing the fog
I feel their breath on my neck
I feel their handcuffs on my wrists

I'm going crazy, it's getting late, it's getting dark
No hope of salvation, I'm cornered, on every corner
I'll be in jail before dawn

THE CROWSROADS • 3923706803 / 3404582812 • thecrowsroadsdate@gmail.com