Portugal. The Man

Portugal. The Man - Guns. Guns...Guns songtekst

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Where have all the people gone

Whose lives are no longer of use to them

But this system bites habit forming this

But this single file is so contagious

But black eyes breed gossip

Like these perverse and perversions alike



Hibernate while you're still young

But you are getting older

So much older

So much older than you think

Still not fallen, years away

Your head's a snake out and a serpant smiling



Crank the tap.

Itch.

Brimming with suspicions

The burrows are brimming with suspicions



Where have all the people gone

Whose guns are gold cold son of a bitch

I know “I'll travel anywhere I like"

I say, "I'll travel anywhere I please.”



I say, but black eyes breed gossip

Like these perverse and perversions alike

Just like these perverse and perversions alike



Hibernate while you're still young

But you are getting older

So much older

So much older than you think

Still not fallen, years away

Your head's a snake out and a serpant smiling



Crank the tap.

Itch.

Brimming with suspicions

The burrows are brimming with suspicions



Where have all the trumpets gone

They're playin us da da dadada da da



The priest's on the boat

And hell is on its way
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Taal: Engels

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