Видео

All That Time Allows
Смотреть видео на песню «{artistName} — {trackName}»

В составе

Создатели

ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
P.F. Sloan
P.F. Sloan
Вокал
Jon Tiven
Jon Tiven
Орган
Fran Kowalski
Fran Kowalski
Бэк-вокал
Becky Hobbs
Becky Hobbs
Бэк-вокал
Beth Hooker
Beth Hooker
Бэк-вокал
Garry Tallent
Garry Tallent
Электрическая бас-гитара
Bruce Bouton
Bruce Bouton
Педальная слайд-гитара
Craig Krampf
Craig Krampf
Барабаны
Billy Block
Billy Block
Табла
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Jon Tiven
Jon Tiven
Продюсер
Jim DeMain
Jim DeMain
Мастеринг-инженер
Jake Burns
Jake Burns
Миксинг-инженер
John Hurley
John Hurley
Инженер звукозаписи
Ben James
Ben James
Ассистент инженера звукозаписи
Fran Kowalski
Fran Kowalski
Миксинг-инженер

Слова

I watched it on the TV I learned to cry again today And the newsman said that someone Took their life away And they judge and rate it, evaluate it 'Til there's nothin' else to say What can I say now? All that words allow Dirty little politics as usual Pullin' the wool over people's eyes 'Til the enemy is everybody Who doesn't hold to your view of life We know change happens way too slowly Like it's stuck or even died We all get stuck somewhere Does it mean I don't care? Ah, the miracle, the madness The temperature of the game Times of happiness, unfairness Praise all the finger-raisin' blame There's the inescapable sadness That brings us down to lift us up again What can I do now? All that love allows, all that love allows Mama, Mama, won't believe what I heard Auntie called her in a break of the game She said Jesus spoke to her 'bout the dinin' room table She said he heard depressed that you asked in his name Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama She said Jesus spoke to her about the dinin' room table He said "Why do you worry so? Don't you worry no more" Dreamed I wakened my sense of appreciation In this age of risin' rage Locked in a cage of self-gratification And what passes for the truth today is mostly misinformation You take care tonight Oh, come share your light Ah, there's the miracle, the madness Temperature of the game Times of happiness or unfairness Praise all the middle finger raised in blame There's the inescapable sadness That brings us down to lift us up again What can I do now? All that time allows, all that time allows What can I do now? All that time allows What can I do now? All that time allows And I watched it on the TV I learned to cry again today
Writer(s): P. F. Sloan Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out