My Kingdom For A Horse

Song	My Kingdom For A Horse
Artist	Frank Turner
Album	Sleep Is For The Week

Lyrics

	Would you pick your clothes up, put your clothes on,
	Pack your things and go?
	I抦 tired of sinking this low.
	Awkward semi-naked coffee conversations fade
	Quicker than mistakes that were made.
	Mornings when
	I抦 coming down, being driven round the bend,
	Make for days when
	I抦 losing my friends
	For all the little things that
	I have done and cannot make amends.
	Don抰 you ever kind of wish that the world would just stop?
	That the band would pack up and the curtain would drop?
	I抳e been stuck inside the same old nights, the same old days off,
	And I need you now because
	I can抰 get out of this.
	Clean your mirrors, roll your notes out,
	Put your cards away.
	That抯 a game that
	I don抰 want to play anymore.
	My head is sore, my throat is raw, and what抯 more
	I抦 fifty pounds down to feel empty and poor,
	Remembering the things that
	I believed when
	I was sober and sure.
	And I抦 trying to speak straight,
	But I抦 drunk and
	I抦 lonely and you won抰 believe me,
	And I抦 trying to see straight,
	But I抳e been up for days and it scares you away,
	And I抦 trying to keep straight,
	But I抎 trade it all for just five minutes more
	Of your wandering hands with their simple demands that are
	All the things
	I ever wanted, better than the powder and pills,
	All the things
	I ever needed, the only thing that doesn抰 seem to kill,
	That still makes me smile.
	So if I tell you all the little things that
	I think that
	I need, Will you tell me how to tell the world from the woods from the trees?
	Because I抳e been stuck inside my comforting familiar disease,
	And I need you now because
	I can抰 get out,
	And all over
	Europe the lights are going out,
	And I抦 pulling down the curtain, but every time
	I reach out
	You抮e gone.

Pinyin

	Would you pick your clothes up, put your clothes on,
	Pack your things and go?
	I bǐng tired of sinking this low.
	Awkward seminaked coffee conversations fade
	Quicker than mistakes that were made.
	Mornings when
	I bǐng coming down, being driven round the bend,
	Make for days when
	I bǐng losing my friends
	For all the little things that
	I have done and cannot make amends.
	Don yāng you ever kind of wish that the world would just stop?
	That the band would pack up and the curtain would drop?
	I nǐ e been stuck inside the same old nights, the same old days off,
	And I need you now because
	I can yāng get out of this.
	Clean your mirrors, roll your notes out,
	Put your cards away.
	That zhā a game that
	I don yāng want to play anymore.
	My head is sore, my throat is raw, and what zhā more
	I bǐng fifty pounds down to feel empty and poor,
	Remembering the things that
	I believed when
	I was sober and sure.
	And I bǐng trying to speak straight,
	But I bǐng drunk and
	I bǐng lonely and you won yāng believe me,
	And I bǐng trying to see straight,
	But I nǐ e been up for days and it scares you away,
	And I bǐng trying to keep straight,
	But I yǔn trade it all for just five minutes more
	Of your wandering hands with their simple demands that are
	All the things
	I ever wanted, better than the powder and pills,
	All the things
	I ever needed, the only thing that doesn yāng seem to kill,
	That still makes me smile.
	So if I tell you all the little things that
	I think that
	I need, Will you tell me how to tell the world from the woods from the trees?
	Because I nǐ e been stuck inside my comforting familiar disease,
	And I need you now because
	I can yāng get out,
	And all over
	Europe the lights are going out,
	And I bǐng pulling down the curtain, but every time
	I reach out
	You zhěn e gone.