Surfin' Guantanamo Bay Lyrics
| Song | Surfin' Guantanamo Bay |
| Artist | David Ford |
| Album | Let the Hard Times Roll |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| All the high grounds covered in a thick, black fog | |
| Any man of any honour hell be dying like a dog | |
| Theres an ill wind and its blowing up perfect, man, you know what I say? | |
| Pick up your waterboard and meet me down at Camp X-Ray | |
| Yeah, everybodys gone surfin Guantanamo Bay | |
| I try to wash it all away in the swell | |
| But every wave digs my soul a little closer to Hell | |
| Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head | |
| Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red | |
| Well the weathers pushing ninety, but my blood runs cold | |
| And my faith is a slow, complicit torture for my soul | |
| Can you feel that fizz and it feels okay? | |
| Im packing up all of my troubles, | |
| Wash them clean in the spray | |
| Yeah, everybodys gone surfin Guantanamo Bay | |
| I try to wash it all away in the swell | |
| But every wave pulls my soul a little closer to Hell | |
| Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head | |
| Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red... |
| All the high ground s covered in a thick, black fog | |
| Any man of any honour he ll be dying like a dog | |
| There s an ill wind and it s blowing up perfect, man, you know what I say? | |
| Pick up your waterboard and meet me down at Camp XRay | |
| Yeah, everybody s gone surfin Guantanamo Bay | |
| I try to wash it all away in the swell | |
| But every wave digs my soul a little closer to Hell | |
| Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head | |
| Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red | |
| Well the weather s pushing ninety, but my blood runs cold | |
| And my faith is a slow, complicit torture for my soul | |
| Can you feel that fizz and it feels okay? | |
| I m packing up all of my troubles, | |
| Wash them clean in the spray | |
| Yeah, everybody s gone surfin Guantanamo Bay | |
| I try to wash it all away in the swell | |
| But every wave pulls my soul a little closer to Hell | |
| Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head | |
| Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red... |
| All the high ground s covered in a thick, black fog | |
| Any man of any honour he ll be dying like a dog | |
| There s an ill wind and it s blowing up perfect, man, you know what I say? | |
| Pick up your waterboard and meet me down at Camp XRay | |
| Yeah, everybody s gone surfin Guantanamo Bay | |
| I try to wash it all away in the swell | |
| But every wave digs my soul a little closer to Hell | |
| Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head | |
| Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red | |
| Well the weather s pushing ninety, but my blood runs cold | |
| And my faith is a slow, complicit torture for my soul | |
| Can you feel that fizz and it feels okay? | |
| I m packing up all of my troubles, | |
| Wash them clean in the spray | |
| Yeah, everybody s gone surfin Guantanamo Bay | |
| I try to wash it all away in the swell | |
| But every wave pulls my soul a little closer to Hell | |
| Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head | |
| Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red... |
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