Pigeons 歌词
| 歌曲 | Pigeons |
| 歌手 | The Hundred In The Hands |
| 专辑 | Pigeons |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Kicking on the edge of town | |
| Counting all the pigeons down | |
| Walking in the steps of men. | |
| I have the feeling they’re not breathing. | |
| She's shaking like a rattle | |
| Sneaking out, the hour's still | |
| Waiting for the room to fall in | |
| Watching the time unwind. | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| We go! | |
| Kicking on the edge of town | |
| Counting all the pigeons down | |
| Walking in the steps of men. | |
| I have the feeling they’re not bleeding. | |
| Laughing like a right-loon | |
| Slavering at the silvery moon | |
| Waiting for the room to fall in | |
| Waiting for him to come. | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes | |
| We go | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| We go | |
| She is still not still is not still. | |
| He is here and not here at all. | |
| Cold grey morning, waking in his room she goes | |
| Crawling out the window, | |
| Climbing up the crooked stairs. | |
| Above the ceiling leaning tracing pigeons | |
| Turning circles in the morning sky. | |
| I don’t know why, you don’t just fly away, | |
| Fly away, fly away | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| (I don’t know why, you don’t just fly away, | |
| Away, away, away) | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| (I don’t know why, you don’t just fly away, | |
| Away, away, away) | |
| We go |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Kicking on the edge of town | |
| Counting all the pigeons down | |
| Walking in the steps of men. | |
| I have the feeling they' re not breathing. | |
| She' s shaking like a rattle | |
| Sneaking out, the hour' s still | |
| Waiting for the room to fall in | |
| Watching the time unwind. | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| We go! | |
| Kicking on the edge of town | |
| Counting all the pigeons down | |
| Walking in the steps of men. | |
| I have the feeling they' re not bleeding. | |
| Laughing like a rightloon | |
| Slavering at the silvery moon | |
| Waiting for the room to fall in | |
| Waiting for him to come. | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes | |
| We go | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| We go | |
| She is still not still is not still. | |
| He is here and not here at all. | |
| Cold grey morning, waking in his room she goes | |
| Crawling out the window, | |
| Climbing up the crooked stairs. | |
| Above the ceiling leaning tracing pigeons | |
| Turning circles in the morning sky. | |
| I don' t know why, you don' t just fly away, | |
| Fly away, fly away | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| I don' t know why, you don' t just fly away, | |
| Away, away, away | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| I don' t know why, you don' t just fly away, | |
| Away, away, away | |
| We go |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Kicking on the edge of town | |
| Counting all the pigeons down | |
| Walking in the steps of men. | |
| I have the feeling they' re not breathing. | |
| She' s shaking like a rattle | |
| Sneaking out, the hour' s still | |
| Waiting for the room to fall in | |
| Watching the time unwind. | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| We go! | |
| Kicking on the edge of town | |
| Counting all the pigeons down | |
| Walking in the steps of men. | |
| I have the feeling they' re not bleeding. | |
| Laughing like a rightloon | |
| Slavering at the silvery moon | |
| Waiting for the room to fall in | |
| Waiting for him to come. | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes | |
| We go | |
| Saturday, Saturday | |
| We go | |
| She is still not still is not still. | |
| He is here and not here at all. | |
| Cold grey morning, waking in his room she goes | |
| Crawling out the window, | |
| Climbing up the crooked stairs. | |
| Above the ceiling leaning tracing pigeons | |
| Turning circles in the morning sky. | |
| I don' t know why, you don' t just fly away, | |
| Fly away, fly away | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| I don' t know why, you don' t just fly away, | |
| Away, away, away | |
| Saturday comes, Sunday comes, we go | |
| I don' t know why, you don' t just fly away, | |
| Away, away, away | |
| We go |
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