Rights to Your Soul Lyrics
| Song | Rights to Your Soul |
| Artist | Street Dogs |
| Album | Fading American Dream |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bean, Hollar, McColgan, Rioux ... | |
| Walking on a summer day down in | |
| Warland Square | |
| When we came upon a begging flower with dreadlocks in her hair | |
| A younger girl, cyanotic too soon | |
| She shoots us back a look, keep that pity to yourself | |
| Then she turns away so violently and fixes up again | |
| Life-stealing chill digging into her | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those cheap shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| Reluctantly | |
| I throw some cash and pity in her can | |
| Knowing full well that the money is earmarked for a bad plan | |
| Admit kindness to a fault, | |
| I guess She half smiles, half cries, catch that pity in my eyes | |
| Then she looks away within a hurry for her begging cry | |
| Christ, she looks on her last leg | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those hot shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| How do you concede young life to a dragon? | |
| How about kicking your demons loose for a ride on the wagon? | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those hot shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| Owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| I remember such a little rose | |
| Before the heroin stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul |
| zuo qu : Bean, Hollar, McColgan, Rioux ... | |
| Walking on a summer day down in | |
| Warland Square | |
| When we came upon a begging flower with dreadlocks in her hair | |
| A younger girl, cyanotic too soon | |
| She shoots us back a look, keep that pity to yourself | |
| Then she turns away so violently and fixes up again | |
| Lifestealing chill digging into her | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those cheap shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| Reluctantly | |
| I throw some cash and pity in her can | |
| Knowing full well that the money is earmarked for a bad plan | |
| Admit kindness to a fault, | |
| I guess She half smiles, half cries, catch that pity in my eyes | |
| Then she looks away within a hurry for her begging cry | |
| Christ, she looks on her last leg | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those hot shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| How do you concede young life to a dragon? | |
| How about kicking your demons loose for a ride on the wagon? | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those hot shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| Owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| I remember such a little rose | |
| Before the heroin stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul |
| zuò qǔ : Bean, Hollar, McColgan, Rioux ... | |
| Walking on a summer day down in | |
| Warland Square | |
| When we came upon a begging flower with dreadlocks in her hair | |
| A younger girl, cyanotic too soon | |
| She shoots us back a look, keep that pity to yourself | |
| Then she turns away so violently and fixes up again | |
| Lifestealing chill digging into her | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those cheap shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| Reluctantly | |
| I throw some cash and pity in her can | |
| Knowing full well that the money is earmarked for a bad plan | |
| Admit kindness to a fault, | |
| I guess She half smiles, half cries, catch that pity in my eyes | |
| Then she looks away within a hurry for her begging cry | |
| Christ, she looks on her last leg | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those hot shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| How do you concede young life to a dragon? | |
| How about kicking your demons loose for a ride on the wagon? | |
| Why have you turned out this way? | |
| Have all those hot shots got you running so far away? | |
| Because it owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| Somewhere beneath the rot lies a rose | |
| Before the poison stream stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul | |
| Owns, owns the rights to your soul | |
| Numb like a mortician, funeral parlor cold | |
| I remember such a little rose | |
| Before the heroin stole the rights to your soul | |
| Rights to your soul, rights to your soul |
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