that times. feeling.

I wanna sit at the bar table in blacken with smoke bar when the sun slighty comes through the doot slit. Smoke a cigarrete with eyes covered by cowboy hat. Order wisky. To feel somewhere between America and Mexica. there where r dark wooden tables and solid dirty glasses. And there where s atmosphere of sin.

That s all about this song:

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I'm one
My mother was a tailor
Sewed my new blue jeans
My father was gambling man Down in New Orleans
Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk
And the only time he'll be satisfied
Is when he's all a-drunk
Oh mother, tell your children
Not to do what I have done
Spend your lives in sin and misery
In the house of the Rising Sun
Well I've got one foot on the platform
The other foot on the train
I'm going back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain
Well there is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
And God I know I'm one