The fire is blazing and
the roses
are turning red
While you lie sleeping
in your bed
Baby that aint good
for your soul
Thunderstorms and
hurricanes, too
seem to always follow you
Baby that aint good
for your soul
You expose yourself
with every story that you tell
action speaks
louder than words
and I think I know you very well
All that silver and
all that gold
Baby that aint good
for your soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem