John Coffey - Featherless Redheads (Acoustic) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• John Coffey
• Featherless Redheads (Acoustic)

Pull my head back, pull my head back, I'd better brace myself for what is to come.
Pull my head back, pull my head back, yeah they always said I was a son of a gun.

The rush of nations turning into routine, the race of races stopped alluring to me.
The scent of a certain decay, is the state I'm going under, the state I'm going after.

Pull my head back, pull my head back, I'd better brace myself for what is to come.
Pull my head back, pull my head back, yeah they always said I was a son of a gun

These are the stories of our lives. At length, the S.O.S. is set.
Where the carcass lies, the vultures will gather.
And oh my God I'm never coming home.

The rush of nations turning into routine, the race of races stopped alluring to me.
The scent of a certain decay; it's crawling up to my nose and then I know that,

These are the stories of our lives. At length, the S.O.S. is set.
Where the carcass lies, the vultures will gather.
And oh my God I'm never coming home is where the heart is tonight.
I can see them coming but I can't see who's right.

But I can see them coming for me, I can see them coming for me.
2x

These are the stories of our lives. At length, the S.O.S. is set
This state I'm in could uphold itself forever and oh my God, I'm never coming -
I can see them coming for me.