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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: Tilly And The Wall
Lyrics:
One, two, three, four! I was kidnapped real young by the sweet taste of love Built a fondness for things that just weren't good enough I cradled the crow, always shooed off the dove Which tagged me a naove son So the fortunate kids, yeah they left on their lights And they stuck up their noses and started some fights Their parents all cackled at dirt on my hands While my father was slaving, my mother explained it Sometimes that's just how it is So my sister went kissing a maple-skinned boy Finally held up her fists, said 'I'm done being coy!' And the neighbourhood, bored, started buzzing with joy We finally had front-page news Although it was sad, I couldn't help but laugh Such ridiculous hate in the hot summer sweat I laid on my back, let the punk record spin The sloppy guitar, it was shooting out stars It all went to my heart, yeah some rainbows in the dark So I called up danger, my friends and some strangers They stumbled and wavered, but caught me a saviour They slipped me the blood in the whole of the vial But I didn't feel them change Then I met a man with a fist for a hand Held me flat on my back, taught me how to give in Some phrases were shot, pretty roses got tossed The gift of a fat-lipped grin Now they're drilling my teeth while I'm soiling sheets With my lover, she's counting the diamonds on rings And even when truth doesn't help with the sting Out of no numbers, some harsh looking colour You pull them out, feel they're changed No need for a thousand cranes So I thank the city, the lights that it's spinning The friends that I have and the shoes we're not shining The drunk horn's so violent, all spinning out sounds But the colour's so vibrant , the colour's so loud The newly-born crying realizing what life is In the eyes of my grandpa, right before dying The see-saw of love, its rickety bounce The feeling of coming, the feeling of going The mother, the child, the tame and the wild The sleeping in minor, the gold leaf, the tire The crooked, the straight, all the hip and the fake Oh, I'm finally feeling the stitching of beautiful seams Sometimes you just can't hold back the river Sometimes you just can't hold back the river Sometimes you just can't hold back the river Sometimes you just can't hold back the river Hold back the river, hold back the river, hold back the river
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