Song | Without A Shot |
Artist | John Mellencamp |
Album | Life, Death, Love and Freedom |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
Put your guns out on the table, throw your bullets on the floor | |
This weary old house can’t take it anymore | |
From the ovens in the kitchen to the chains out in the dirt | |
Rope hanging in the bedroom that’s some of our dirty work | |
The distant sleeping shadows that lie out in the yard | |
The wind that distorts the meaning of who we really are | |
Saluting of ourselves as we pass by our mirrors | |
This show of phony adulation just masquerades all our fears | |
So we open our eyes at midnight, see the setting of the sun | |
Foundation is crumbling, the inner structure’s gone | |
Used up by corruption and the passage of time | |
We hope we’ve got some fight left' | |
Cause our children, our children are dying | |
So we think that forgiveness is a | |
God given right | |
And equality for all is just a waste of our time | |
With our nickel plated | |
Jesus chained around our necks | |
Handing out verses of scripture like we wrote it down ourselves | |
Respect that we once had went up the water spout | |
Tried to keep it secret but the secret was found out | |
Got to thinking high and mighty like everything was a lock | |
Some now say this house can be taken without a shot | |
So the hole gets dug deeper with every wedding bell | |
And we sell each other down the road 'til there’s nothing left to sell | |
And slowly but surely we disappear without a trace | |
We point our fingers at each other say what the hell happened to this place | |
Without a shot, without a shot, without a shot |
Put your guns out on the table, throw your bullets on the floor | |
This weary old house can' t take it anymore | |
From the ovens in the kitchen to the chains out in the dirt | |
Rope hanging in the bedroom that' s some of our dirty work | |
The distant sleeping shadows that lie out in the yard | |
The wind that distorts the meaning of who we really are | |
Saluting of ourselves as we pass by our mirrors | |
This show of phony adulation just masquerades all our fears | |
So we open our eyes at midnight, see the setting of the sun | |
Foundation is crumbling, the inner structure' s gone | |
Used up by corruption and the passage of time | |
We hope we' ve got some fight left' | |
Cause our children, our children are dying | |
So we think that forgiveness is a | |
God given right | |
And equality for all is just a waste of our time | |
With our nickel plated | |
Jesus chained around our necks | |
Handing out verses of scripture like we wrote it down ourselves | |
Respect that we once had went up the water spout | |
Tried to keep it secret but the secret was found out | |
Got to thinking high and mighty like everything was a lock | |
Some now say this house can be taken without a shot | |
So the hole gets dug deeper with every wedding bell | |
And we sell each other down the road ' til there' s nothing left to sell | |
And slowly but surely we disappear without a trace | |
We point our fingers at each other say what the hell happened to this place | |
Without a shot, without a shot, without a shot |
Put your guns out on the table, throw your bullets on the floor | |
This weary old house can' t take it anymore | |
From the ovens in the kitchen to the chains out in the dirt | |
Rope hanging in the bedroom that' s some of our dirty work | |
The distant sleeping shadows that lie out in the yard | |
The wind that distorts the meaning of who we really are | |
Saluting of ourselves as we pass by our mirrors | |
This show of phony adulation just masquerades all our fears | |
So we open our eyes at midnight, see the setting of the sun | |
Foundation is crumbling, the inner structure' s gone | |
Used up by corruption and the passage of time | |
We hope we' ve got some fight left' | |
Cause our children, our children are dying | |
So we think that forgiveness is a | |
God given right | |
And equality for all is just a waste of our time | |
With our nickel plated | |
Jesus chained around our necks | |
Handing out verses of scripture like we wrote it down ourselves | |
Respect that we once had went up the water spout | |
Tried to keep it secret but the secret was found out | |
Got to thinking high and mighty like everything was a lock | |
Some now say this house can be taken without a shot | |
So the hole gets dug deeper with every wedding bell | |
And we sell each other down the road ' til there' s nothing left to sell | |
And slowly but surely we disappear without a trace | |
We point our fingers at each other say what the hell happened to this place | |
Without a shot, without a shot, without a shot |