Song | Graverobber |
Artist | The Damned Things |
Album | Ironiclast |
作曲 : Buckley, Caggiano, Trohman | |
I got caught dragging the scraps from the heap | |
By the junkyard dogs | |
They won't leave me alone, no | |
'Cause I went for the pearl | |
They keep in the mouth of the pig | |
But he won't let it go | |
No he won't let it go | |
So I broke the lock to the vault | |
Where they buried my child | |
But he won't stay alive | |
No, he can't be revived | |
So don't push me | |
I said I was leaving | |
I just wanted to stick my hands | |
Up the shirts of the grieving | |
Graverobber, you can't take me home | |
I don't care what nobody says, lord | |
That's my bed on the side of the road | |
Graverobber, your hands are getting cold | |
We take another drink of the dust that don't just blow, it pours | |
Straight from the veins of the ghost of our lord | |
And it won't be long until my cask is a casket | |
And I've righted my wrongs, I've righted my wrongs | |
Graverobber, you can't take me home | |
I don't care what nobody says, lord | |
That's my bed on the side of the road | |
Graverobber, your hands are getting cold | |
I lost what I've found | |
In the feedback and chemicals | |
We're growing mold on the fruits of our labours | |
I lost what I've found | |
In the feedback and chemicals | |
We're growing mold on the fruits of our labours | |
I go back to the well | |
With my head in my hands | |
And my tail between my legs | |
I go back to the well | |
With my head in my hands | |
And my tail between my legs | |
Graverobber, you can't take me home | |
I don't care what nobody says, lord | |
That's my bed on the side of the road | |
Graverobber, your hands are getting cold |
zuò qǔ : Buckley, Caggiano, Trohman | |
I got caught dragging the scraps from the heap | |
By the junkyard dogs | |
They won' t leave me alone, no | |
' Cause I went for the pearl | |
They keep in the mouth of the pig | |
But he won' t let it go | |
No he won' t let it go | |
So I broke the lock to the vault | |
Where they buried my child | |
But he won' t stay alive | |
No, he can' t be revived | |
So don' t push me | |
I said I was leaving | |
I just wanted to stick my hands | |
Up the shirts of the grieving | |
Graverobber, you can' t take me home | |
I don' t care what nobody says, lord | |
That' s my bed on the side of the road | |
Graverobber, your hands are getting cold | |
We take another drink of the dust that don' t just blow, it pours | |
Straight from the veins of the ghost of our lord | |
And it won' t be long until my cask is a casket | |
And I' ve righted my wrongs, I' ve righted my wrongs | |
Graverobber, you can' t take me home | |
I don' t care what nobody says, lord | |
That' s my bed on the side of the road | |
Graverobber, your hands are getting cold | |
I lost what I' ve found | |
In the feedback and chemicals | |
We' re growing mold on the fruits of our labours | |
I lost what I' ve found | |
In the feedback and chemicals | |
We' re growing mold on the fruits of our labours | |
I go back to the well | |
With my head in my hands | |
And my tail between my legs | |
I go back to the well | |
With my head in my hands | |
And my tail between my legs | |
Graverobber, you can' t take me home | |
I don' t care what nobody says, lord | |
That' s my bed on the side of the road | |
Graverobber, your hands are getting cold |