| Song | Hole For A Soul |
| Artist | Terrorvision |
| Album | Formaldehyde/How To Make Friends And Influence People/Regular Urban Survivors |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Terrorvision | |
| holy shamoly said the priest to the girl | |
| as he wrapped his arms around her | |
| and his guts became her world | |
| she said i can't take any more | |
| no i can't take any more | |
| and she could taste the christ | |
| breath the church | |
| smell the crucifixion | |
| of another fallen angel hooked up on false religion | |
| she's gotta hole for a soul | |
| she's gotta sad sad tale to tell | |
| she's gotta hole for a soul | |
| of being twisted in a living hell | |
| crikey moses he said with bottle in his hand | |
| fingers worn thin down to the bone | |
| from working on the promised land | |
| fingers worn thin tattered and torn from scratching | |
| all this blood and sand | |
| said i can't take any more | |
| no i can't take any more | |
| he had a loving wife | |
| doting child | |
| an englishman's castle for his home | |
| every mile stood this broken man | |
| and every two stood this broken man's dream | |
| he's gotta hole for a soul | |
| he's gotta sad sad tale to tell | |
| he's gotta hole for a soul | |
| of being twisted in a living hell |
| zuo qu : Terrorvision | |
| holy shamoly said the priest to the girl | |
| as he wrapped his arms around her | |
| and his guts became her world | |
| she said i can' t take any more | |
| no i can' t take any more | |
| and she could taste the christ | |
| breath the church | |
| smell the crucifixion | |
| of another fallen angel hooked up on false religion | |
| she' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| she' s gotta sad sad tale to tell | |
| she' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| of being twisted in a living hell | |
| crikey moses he said with bottle in his hand | |
| fingers worn thin down to the bone | |
| from working on the promised land | |
| fingers worn thin tattered and torn from scratching | |
| all this blood and sand | |
| said i can' t take any more | |
| no i can' t take any more | |
| he had a loving wife | |
| doting child | |
| an englishman' s castle for his home | |
| every mile stood this broken man | |
| and every two stood this broken man' s dream | |
| he' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| he' s gotta sad sad tale to tell | |
| he' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| of being twisted in a living hell |
| zuò qǔ : Terrorvision | |
| holy shamoly said the priest to the girl | |
| as he wrapped his arms around her | |
| and his guts became her world | |
| she said i can' t take any more | |
| no i can' t take any more | |
| and she could taste the christ | |
| breath the church | |
| smell the crucifixion | |
| of another fallen angel hooked up on false religion | |
| she' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| she' s gotta sad sad tale to tell | |
| she' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| of being twisted in a living hell | |
| crikey moses he said with bottle in his hand | |
| fingers worn thin down to the bone | |
| from working on the promised land | |
| fingers worn thin tattered and torn from scratching | |
| all this blood and sand | |
| said i can' t take any more | |
| no i can' t take any more | |
| he had a loving wife | |
| doting child | |
| an englishman' s castle for his home | |
| every mile stood this broken man | |
| and every two stood this broken man' s dream | |
| he' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| he' s gotta sad sad tale to tell | |
| he' s gotta hole for a soul | |
| of being twisted in a living hell |