Seleccione el idioma para traducir esta letra
The quotidian aches and pains
of being a being.
All the small nothings, theyâre something;
the bric-a-brac euphoria.
âEvery problemâs not mine to solve.â
Ruth built a shrine to all
the passers-by, the banal.
Ginger fears death
but Ruth says that lifeâs where the painâs at.
Gingerâs a bored one.
Well, Ruth is a bear and Gingerâs a brat.
Well, back in New York where the funâs at,
waiting at the train tracks.
Ginger is arguing in her head
with her bossâsome bullshit hen.
Well, Ruth, she walks down the platform
in black.
She says itâs good to be back
in the cityâthe big brick hive.
Ruth says, âWhen all else fails
dig the hippie shit like itâs working.â
Ginger gets frustrated
and Ruth just shifts round the wording.
âGinger, youâre so good to me
but your worry is disconcerting.â
âRuth, donât overthink it!
Now come back to bed Iâm just bursting.â