The Bus
I am promised with your eyes, promisedAnd if you only knew how many villages I crossed for themYou, you, your eyes are blackYou don't know, you don't knowWhat they do to me, what they do to me, what they do to meYour black eyes
On the roaring of the busWhich was taking usFrom the village of Himlaya to the village of TanourineI remembered you, Aliya, and I remembered your eyesAnd damn your eyes, Aliya, how pretty they are!On the roaring of the busWhich was taking usFrom the village of Himlaya to the village of TanourineI remembered you, Aliya, and I remembered your eyesAnd damn your eyes, Aliya, how pretty they are!
We were travelingIn this killing heatWe were travelingIn this killing heatOne of the passengers was eating lettuceAnd one was eating figsThere was one with his wifeAnd oh, how ugly was his wife!They're so lucky, the people of TanourineHow empty their minds areAnd they don't know, Aliya, how beautiful your eyes are!How beautiful they are!
On the roaring of the busWhich was taking usFrom the village of Himlaya to the village of TanourineI remembered you, Aliya, and I remembered your eyesAnd damn your eyes, Aliya, how pretty they are!
We were ridingRiding without payingWe were ridingRiding without payingSometimes we would hold the door for the driverAnd sometimes we would hold the passengers for himAnd the one with his wife,She got dizzy and fainted on his shouldersI swear to you, if he had only seen how pretty your eyes areHe would have left her to go to Tanourine by herself
On the roaring of the busWhich was taking usFrom the village of Himlaya to the village of TanourineI remembered you, Aliya, and I remembered your eyesAnd damn your eyes, Aliya, how pretty they are!
On the roaring of the busWhich was taking usFrom the village of Himlaya to the village of TanourineI remembered you, Aliya, and I remembered your eyesAnd damn your eyes, Aliya, how pretty they are!