A Hundred Fathers 歌词
| 歌曲 | A Hundred Fathers |
| 歌手 | Doomtree |
| 专辑 | False Hopes |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| Now this new jack is hitting the old road going for broke | |
| Wrangling wild horses with my toes in the rope | |
| Holding a smoke I lay back and enjoy the drag, | |
| I may be broke praise the fact that I play the flag | |
| Burners off freights make it hard to watch the road sometimes | |
| Looking for a place to stay in barbershops with open signs | |
| Soaked in wine booze smoke and wisdom | |
| Now I’m in the right mood to hold the rhythm | |
| Or hold some wholesome women | |
| Pick up the old six string and write a song for Folsom Prison | |
| But I never shot a man and I never been to Reno | |
| Guess I’m better off the man with plans to pen it towards Toledo | |
| There’s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it’s water works nightstalker walkin' dead with other offers | |
| There’s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it’s water works nightstalker walkin' dead with other offers | |
| My rudder's locked for the evening, ship still sailing crushing into docks while I’m sleeping don’t mock the meaning and I won’t stop dreaming while I’m off eating more then I can fit my mouth around. This sound is lost its leaning often feeding on its own young so what’s the cost of fleeing if you don’t run. Now no one is as beautiful as the rainy season making love to a funeral for the dead dreamers and the slave drivers this is Cecil Otter forever fever for the cave lifers and the stage divers and the cage fighters | |
| Like this oak sleeps in the acorn | |
| That ghost sleeps in the newborn | |
| I slit the throats to keep my cave warm | |
| In hopes it keeps the true form somber | |
| There’s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it’s water works nightstalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| There’s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it’s water works nightstalker walkin dead | |
| This house is haunted | |
| It was built over buried axes | |
| This couch I’m on it still sober barely active carry caskets that some are calling dead weight the rub the fallin type eatin dough before the bread bakes. My head aches and it pains me to medicate it but until I learn to brave the road alone I will stay dedicated If my bed is made with audience in mind it will most likely fight me off with the fist of time. I don’t miss the finer things in life anymore designer rings were just knives ready for the kill ready for the score how many whore their skill how many warm their soul with the will of an author | |
| There’s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it’s water works night stalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| There’s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it’s water works night stalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| This oak sleeps in the acorn that ghost sleeps in the newborn. I slit the throats to keep my cave warm in hopes it keeps the true form somber | |
| This oak sleeps in the acorn that ghost sleeps in the newborn. I slit the throats to keep my cave warm in hopes it keeps the true form |
| Now this new jack is hitting the old road going for broke | |
| Wrangling wild horses with my toes in the rope | |
| Holding a smoke I lay back and enjoy the drag, | |
| I may be broke praise the fact that I play the flag | |
| Burners off freights make it hard to watch the road sometimes | |
| Looking for a place to stay in barbershops with open signs | |
| Soaked in wine booze smoke and wisdom | |
| Now I' m in the right mood to hold the rhythm | |
| Or hold some wholesome women | |
| Pick up the old six string and write a song for Folsom Prison | |
| But I never shot a man and I never been to Reno | |
| Guess I' m better off the man with plans to pen it towards Toledo | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin' dead with other offers | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin' dead with other offers | |
| My rudder' s locked for the evening, ship still sailing crushing into docks while I' m sleeping don' t mock the meaning and I won' t stop dreaming while I' m off eating more then I can fit my mouth around. This sound is lost its leaning often feeding on its own young so what' s the cost of fleeing if you don' t run. Now no one is as beautiful as the rainy season making love to a funeral for the dead dreamers and the slave drivers this is Cecil Otter forever fever for the cave lifers and the stage divers and the cage fighters | |
| Like this oak sleeps in the acorn | |
| That ghost sleeps in the newborn | |
| I slit the throats to keep my cave warm | |
| In hopes it keeps the true form somber | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin dead | |
| This house is haunted | |
| It was built over buried axes | |
| This couch I' m on it still sober barely active carry caskets that some are calling dead weight the rub the fallin type eatin dough before the bread bakes. My head aches and it pains me to medicate it but until I learn to brave the road alone I will stay dedicated If my bed is made with audience in mind it will most likely fight me off with the fist of time. I don' t miss the finer things in life anymore designer rings were just knives ready for the kill ready for the score how many whore their skill how many warm their soul with the will of an author | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works night stalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works night stalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| This oak sleeps in the acorn that ghost sleeps in the newborn. I slit the throats to keep my cave warm in hopes it keeps the true form somber | |
| This oak sleeps in the acorn that ghost sleeps in the newborn. I slit the throats to keep my cave warm in hopes it keeps the true form |
| Now this new jack is hitting the old road going for broke | |
| Wrangling wild horses with my toes in the rope | |
| Holding a smoke I lay back and enjoy the drag, | |
| I may be broke praise the fact that I play the flag | |
| Burners off freights make it hard to watch the road sometimes | |
| Looking for a place to stay in barbershops with open signs | |
| Soaked in wine booze smoke and wisdom | |
| Now I' m in the right mood to hold the rhythm | |
| Or hold some wholesome women | |
| Pick up the old six string and write a song for Folsom Prison | |
| But I never shot a man and I never been to Reno | |
| Guess I' m better off the man with plans to pen it towards Toledo | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin' dead with other offers | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin' dead with other offers | |
| My rudder' s locked for the evening, ship still sailing crushing into docks while I' m sleeping don' t mock the meaning and I won' t stop dreaming while I' m off eating more then I can fit my mouth around. This sound is lost its leaning often feeding on its own young so what' s the cost of fleeing if you don' t run. Now no one is as beautiful as the rainy season making love to a funeral for the dead dreamers and the slave drivers this is Cecil Otter forever fever for the cave lifers and the stage divers and the cage fighters | |
| Like this oak sleeps in the acorn | |
| That ghost sleeps in the newborn | |
| I slit the throats to keep my cave warm | |
| In hopes it keeps the true form somber | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works nightstalker walkin dead | |
| This house is haunted | |
| It was built over buried axes | |
| This couch I' m on it still sober barely active carry caskets that some are calling dead weight the rub the fallin type eatin dough before the bread bakes. My head aches and it pains me to medicate it but until I learn to brave the road alone I will stay dedicated If my bed is made with audience in mind it will most likely fight me off with the fist of time. I don' t miss the finer things in life anymore designer rings were just knives ready for the kill ready for the score how many whore their skill how many warm their soul with the will of an author | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works night stalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| There' s a bed under this monster, who wears the heads of a hundred fathers and lets the thunder kiss it' s water works night stalker walkin dead with other offers | |
| This oak sleeps in the acorn that ghost sleeps in the newborn. I slit the throats to keep my cave warm in hopes it keeps the true form somber | |
| This oak sleeps in the acorn that ghost sleeps in the newborn. I slit the throats to keep my cave warm in hopes it keeps the true form |
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