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Delta Spirit - Idaho sanat lyrics

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Idaho

Thunderclouds have been making faces
My friends are on the front porch getting wasted
Freedom sits this side of the hill
Calling me back but I never will
 
We’ll hang low like they do it down in Idaho
Don’t run, we roll, as we’re headed out to Roady’s Bowl
 
Some say that sleep’s for dreamers
We pack up our things and make our way to the theater
The suits, they dropped the ball again
We’ll pass the hat and make another plan
 
We’ll hang low like they do it down in Idaho
Don’t run, we roll, as we’re calling up the radio
 
Suburban crimes of using words
We hear out in the distance our ghetto bird
Big brother’s got his eye on you
Walk a block and it’ll tell the truth
 
We’ll hang low like they do it down in Idaho
Don’t run, we roll, as we’re headed out to Roady’s Bowl
Don’t run, we roll, as we’re calling up the radio
Don’t run, we roll, as they’re locking up another soul
 

Enemmän sanat lyrics artistin: Delta Spirit


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Enemmän sanat lyrics

Don't Call Me At All

It's not that I don't have words to say
I just don't want to be the one that speaks them
I'd rather keep it secret until we reach it
So I'll rest my head on the glory of this sorrow
I know it's hard to swallow, but tomorrow
We'll start new
 
And I remember the lines I thought that I'd forgotten
'Your only flaw is that you're flawless'
I'm so full of shit, I'm surprised you bought it
But to say that I don't care is more or less astounding
'Cause I wrote an entire album about us drowning
Wasn't that enough?
 
Now I'm haunted by all these holes found in my armor
And if my heart beats any harder, I will lose it
Well congratulations, I didn't know
You two had made things so official
Just don't call me when it fizzles
In fact, don't call me at all
 

Tom Dooley

Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
You left her by the roadside
Where you begged to be excused;
You left her by the roadside,
Then you hid her clothes and shoes.
 
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
 
You took her on the hillside
For to make her your wife;
You took her on the hillside,
And ther you took her life.
 
You dug the grave four feet long
And you dug it three feet deep;
You rolled the cold clay over her
And tromped it with your feet.
 
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
 
'Trouble, oh it's trouble
A-rollin' through my breast;
As long as I'm a-livin', boys,
They ain't a-gonna let me rest.
 
I know they're gonna hang me,
Tomorrow I'll be dead,
Though I never even harmed a hair
On poor little Laurie's head.'
 
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
 
'In this world and one more
Then reckon where I'll be;
If is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson,
I'd be in Tennesee.
 
You can take down my old violin
And play it all you please.
For at this time tomorrow, boys,
It'll be of no use to me.'
 
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
 
'At this time tomorrow
Where do you reckon I'll be?
Away down yonder in the holler
Hangin' on a white oak tree.
 
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
 

Khe Sanh

I left my heart to the sappers round Khe Sanh
And my soul was sold with my cigarettes
To the blackmarket man
I've had the Vietnam cold turkey
From the ocean to the Silver City
And it's only other vets could understand
 
About the long forgotten dockside guarantees
How there were no V-Day heroes in 1973
How we sailed into Sydney Harbour
Saw an old friend but couldn't kiss her
She was lined, and I was home to the lucky land
 
And she was like so many more from that time on
Their lives were all so empty
Till they found their chosen one
And their legs were often open
But their minds were always closed
And their hearts were held in fast suburban chains
 
And the legal pads were yellow
Hours long, pay-packets lean
And the telex writers clattered
Where the gunships once had been
But the car parks made me jumpy
And I never stopped the dreams
Or the growing need for speed and Novocain
 
So I worked across the country end to end
Tried to find a place to settle down
Where my mixed up life could mend
Held a job on an oil-rig
Flying choppers when I could
But the nightlife nearly drove me round the bend
 
And I've travelled round the world from year to year
And each one found me aimless
One more year the worse for wear
And I've been back to South East Asia
But the answer sure ain't there
But I'm drifting north, to check things out again
 
You know the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone
Only seven flying hours, and I'll be landing in Hong Kong
There ain't nothing like the kisses
From a jaded Chinese princess
I'm gonna hit some Hong Kong mattress all night long
 
Well the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone
Yeah the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone
And it's really got me worried
I'm goin' nowhere and I'm in a hurry
And the last plane out of Sydney's almost gone
 

Ciarán's Well

Misty cold nights
You'll hear her sigh
And sing bitter
Sweet lullabies
 
For years she prayed
The saints would cast
A spell for the
Forest to let her go
 
She sings
She dreams
She prays
 
She sings
She plays
She stays
 
Ahh Ahhhh
Ahh Ahhhh
 
The black old well
Holds ancient tales
And makes all wishes come true
So throw your dream
Into the dark
And Blue will come for you