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Filthy Preachers - Your Turn To Bleed (acoustic) | Текст песни

Knock knock, look around
A little wooden horse at the gate.
When the candles are out,
All cats are grey.

Sizzling moonshine at the night's fume.
Night guest in a pitch black costume.
One fast blow and the sky is full of stars.

The woe is bitter, the wound is old.
But it hurts like you're putting salt in it.
But revenge is a meal that's sweeter served cold.
And now this is your turn to bleed.

I'm sure you dreamed to enjoy
The glory of old age.
With all your breed
Crying round the deathbed.

I see another way
For you to quit the stage.
I'm just gonna hurt you
Really, really bad.

The woe is bitter, the wound is old.
But it hurts like you're putting salt in it.
But revenge is a meal that's sweeter served cold.
And now this is your turn to bleed.

You didn't know that she was all my life,
The slippery road, the broken lights.
Even though I can't forgive you
That hit'n'run.

I wish we had more time to converse,
But the clock sadly never runs in reverse.
And the police siren
Tell me to hurry up.

The woe is bitter, the wound is old.
But it hurts like you're putting salt in it.
But revenge is a meal that's sweeter served cold.
And now this is your turn.
The woe is bitter, the wound is old.
But it hurts like you're putting salt in it.
But revenge is a meal that's sweeter served cold.
And now this is your turn to bleed.
And now this is your turn to bleed.
And now this is your turn.

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