Song | Blood On The Sidewalk |
Artist | Satanic Surfers |
Album | Taste The Poison |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Satanic Surfers | |
This refusal to grow up, running around in circles, | |
going to sleep, waking up with this constant doubt | |
"Am I making the right choice or am I just accepting what others say life is all about?" | |
So there he stands in front of a broken window with bleeding knuckles, at his own reflection | |
He looks at himself in disbelief | |
Looking back on his life, was it worth it? | |
With his eyes staring down into the ground instead of looking forward | |
He clenches his fist, picks up another bottle to kill the questions and soothe the pain | |
all he leaves behind is this stain...of blood on the sidewalk | |
With a broken spirit and sold out dreams, | |
he wakes up and washes the dried tears from his face | |
"I know now that I made the wrong choice, | |
but the choice was never mine to make in the first place" | |
So there he stands in front of a broken mirror with bleeding knuckles, | |
gazing at his own reflection | |
He looks at himself in disbelief | |
Looking back on his life, was it worth it? | |
With his eyes staring down into the ground instead of looking forward | |
He clenches his fist, swallows another pill to kill the questions and soothe the pain... | |
and in time the rain will wash away the memories that remain of a man who came and left | |
leaving nothing but a stain...of blood on the sidewalk |
zuo qu : Satanic Surfers | |
This refusal to grow up, running around in circles, | |
going to sleep, waking up with this constant doubt | |
" Am I making the right choice or am I just accepting what others say life is all about?" | |
So there he stands in front of a broken window with bleeding knuckles, at his own reflection | |
He looks at himself in disbelief | |
Looking back on his life, was it worth it? | |
With his eyes staring down into the ground instead of looking forward | |
He clenches his fist, picks up another bottle to kill the questions and soothe the pain | |
all he leaves behind is this stain... of blood on the sidewalk | |
With a broken spirit and sold out dreams, | |
he wakes up and washes the dried tears from his face | |
" I know now that I made the wrong choice, | |
but the choice was never mine to make in the first place" | |
So there he stands in front of a broken mirror with bleeding knuckles, | |
gazing at his own reflection | |
He looks at himself in disbelief | |
Looking back on his life, was it worth it? | |
With his eyes staring down into the ground instead of looking forward | |
He clenches his fist, swallows another pill to kill the questions and soothe the pain... | |
and in time the rain will wash away the memories that remain of a man who came and left | |
leaving nothing but a stain... of blood on the sidewalk |
zuò qǔ : Satanic Surfers | |
This refusal to grow up, running around in circles, | |
going to sleep, waking up with this constant doubt | |
" Am I making the right choice or am I just accepting what others say life is all about?" | |
So there he stands in front of a broken window with bleeding knuckles, at his own reflection | |
He looks at himself in disbelief | |
Looking back on his life, was it worth it? | |
With his eyes staring down into the ground instead of looking forward | |
He clenches his fist, picks up another bottle to kill the questions and soothe the pain | |
all he leaves behind is this stain... of blood on the sidewalk | |
With a broken spirit and sold out dreams, | |
he wakes up and washes the dried tears from his face | |
" I know now that I made the wrong choice, | |
but the choice was never mine to make in the first place" | |
So there he stands in front of a broken mirror with bleeding knuckles, | |
gazing at his own reflection | |
He looks at himself in disbelief | |
Looking back on his life, was it worth it? | |
With his eyes staring down into the ground instead of looking forward | |
He clenches his fist, swallows another pill to kill the questions and soothe the pain... | |
and in time the rain will wash away the memories that remain of a man who came and left | |
leaving nothing but a stain... of blood on the sidewalk |