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Corregir Letra Thank God It's Not Christmas de Sparks

Regresar a la letra Thank God It's Not Christmas de Sparks

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Letra actual de la canción

What do I hear, what do I hear?<br />Chit-chat, and clinking glass<br />Cheap talk, a lady's laugh<br />After hour<br /><br />What do I see, what do I see?<br />Some sunken hideaway<br />Where people go to play<br />After hour<br /><br />There I'll spend the night<br />Meeting fancy thins<br />At bistros and old haunts<br />Trying very hard to sin<br /><br />Then it is day end in a way<br />The pattern's much the same<br />In-spots, a matinee<br />Every day<br /><br />Blend with the crowd, blend with the loud<br />Hypnotic ebb and flow<br />Until the day goes slowly<br />Into night<br /><br />See the same old crowd<br />At bistros and old haunts<br />'Til the lights grow dim,<br />The not-so-subtle hint to be gone<br /><br />Chorus:<br />Thank God it's not Christmas<br />When there is only you<br />And nothing else to do<br />Thank God it's not Christmas<br />Where there's just you to do<br />The rest is closed to public view<br /><br />Caroling kids, caroling kids<br />A trifle premature, in tones so rich and pure and<br />Crystaline<br /><br />Call for the day, the popular day<br />It's fast approaching now<br />But will the mood allow<br />One dissent<br /><br />If this were the Seine<br />We'd be very suave<br />But it's just the rain<br />Washing down the boulevard<br /><br />(Chorus)<br /><br />Popular days, the popular ways<br />Are for the chosen few<br />Not meant for me and you<br />Obviously<br /><br />Popular nights, poplar rites<br />Great things to say and do<br />Aren't said or done by you<br />Obviously<br /><br />If this were Seine<br />We'd be very suave<br />But it's just the rain<br />Washing down the boulevard

Letra nueva de la canción

What do I hear, what do I hear?<br />Chit-chat, and clinking glass<br />Cheap talk, a lady's laugh<br />After hour<br /><br />What do I see, what do I see?<br />Some sunken hideaway<br />Where people go to play<br />After hour<br /><br />There I'll spend the night<br />Meeting fancy thins<br />At bistros and old haunts<br />Trying very hard to sin<br /><br />Then it is day end in a way<br />The pattern's much the same<br />In-spots, a matinee<br />Every day<br /><br />Blend with the crowd, blend with the loud<br />Hypnotic ebb and flow<br />Until the day goes slowly<br />Into night<br /><br />See the same old crowd<br />At bistros and old haunts<br />'Til the lights grow dim,<br />The not-so-subtle hint to be gone<br /><br />Chorus:<br />Thank God it's not Christmas<br />When there is only you<br />And nothing else to do<br />Thank God it's not Christmas<br />Where there's just you to do<br />The rest is closed to public view<br /><br />Caroling kids, caroling kids<br />A trifle premature, in tones so rich and pure and<br />Crystaline<br /><br />Call for the day, the popular day<br />It's fast approaching now<br />But will the mood allow<br />One dissent<br /><br />If this were the Seine<br />We'd be very suave<br />But it's just the rain<br />Washing down the boulevard<br /><br />(Chorus)<br /><br />Popular days, the popular ways<br />Are for the chosen few<br />Not meant for me and you<br />Obviously<br /><br />Popular nights, poplar rites<br />Great things to say and do<br />Aren't said or done by you<br />Obviously<br /><br />If this were Seine<br />We'd be very suave<br />But it's just the rain<br />Washing down the boulevard