|
Here we go again |
|
Of what's left of the fool on the floor |
|
And here once again |
|
Through the cellar and out through the back door |
|
And I don't want a lose it |
|
Tattooed on my thought on no more |
|
It takes me back there |
|
Straight back to 1904 |
|
And they say awake no more |
|
And they stay awake no more |
|
The guns were cryin' |
|
And lowered the bar on the door |
|
They hate thee, hate thee |
|
Because they are soul lost and poor |
|
And they say awake no more |
|
And they stay awake no more |
|
And here we go again |
|
Through what's left of a hole on the floor |
|
And back through the cellar |
|
And out of what's left of the back door |
|
And here we go again through |
|
What's left in the hole on the floor |
|
And out through the cellar |
|
And out of what's left of the back door |
