| Song | Giving Up The Gun |
| Artist | Vampire Weekend |
| Album | FM4 Soundselection: 22 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Your sword's grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It's locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it's done | |
| And though it's been a long time | |
| You’re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you’re giving up the gun | |
| When I was 17 | |
| I had wrists like steel | |
| And I felt complete | |
| And now my body fades | |
| Behind a brass charade | |
| And I’m obsolete | |
| But if the change remains | |
| To see those better days | |
| I’d cut the cannons down | |
| My ears are blown to bits | |
| From all the rifle hits | |
| Still I crave that sound | |
| Your sword's grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It's locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it's done | |
| And though it's been a long time | |
| You’re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you’re giving up the gun | |
| I heard you play guitar | |
| Down at a seedy bar | |
| Where skinheads used to fight | |
| Your Tokugawa smile | |
| And your garbage style | |
| Used to save the night | |
| You felt the coming wave | |
| Told me we'd all be brave | |
| You said you wouldn’t flinch | |
| But in the years that passed | |
| Since I saw you last | |
| You haven’t moved an inch | |
| Your sword's grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It's locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it's done | |
| And though it's been a long time | |
| You’re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you’re giving up the gun | |
| I see you shining your way | |
| Go on go on go on |
| Your sword' s grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It' s locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it' s done | |
| And though it' s been a long time | |
| You' re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you' re giving up the gun | |
| When I was 17 | |
| I had wrists like steel | |
| And I felt complete | |
| And now my body fades | |
| Behind a brass charade | |
| And I' m obsolete | |
| But if the change remains | |
| To see those better days | |
| I' d cut the cannons down | |
| My ears are blown to bits | |
| From all the rifle hits | |
| Still I crave that sound | |
| Your sword' s grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It' s locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it' s done | |
| And though it' s been a long time | |
| You' re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you' re giving up the gun | |
| I heard you play guitar | |
| Down at a seedy bar | |
| Where skinheads used to fight | |
| Your Tokugawa smile | |
| And your garbage style | |
| Used to save the night | |
| You felt the coming wave | |
| Told me we' d all be brave | |
| You said you wouldn' t flinch | |
| But in the years that passed | |
| Since I saw you last | |
| You haven' t moved an inch | |
| Your sword' s grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It' s locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it' s done | |
| And though it' s been a long time | |
| You' re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you' re giving up the gun | |
| I see you shining your way | |
| Go on go on go on |
| Your sword' s grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It' s locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it' s done | |
| And though it' s been a long time | |
| You' re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you' re giving up the gun | |
| When I was 17 | |
| I had wrists like steel | |
| And I felt complete | |
| And now my body fades | |
| Behind a brass charade | |
| And I' m obsolete | |
| But if the change remains | |
| To see those better days | |
| I' d cut the cannons down | |
| My ears are blown to bits | |
| From all the rifle hits | |
| Still I crave that sound | |
| Your sword' s grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It' s locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it' s done | |
| And though it' s been a long time | |
| You' re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you' re giving up the gun | |
| I heard you play guitar | |
| Down at a seedy bar | |
| Where skinheads used to fight | |
| Your Tokugawa smile | |
| And your garbage style | |
| Used to save the night | |
| You felt the coming wave | |
| Told me we' d all be brave | |
| You said you wouldn' t flinch | |
| But in the years that passed | |
| Since I saw you last | |
| You haven' t moved an inch | |
| Your sword' s grown old and rusty | |
| Burnt beneath the rising sun | |
| It' s locked up like a trophy | |
| Forgetting all the things it' s done | |
| And though it' s been a long time | |
| You' re right back where you started from | |
| I see it in your eyes | |
| That now you' re giving up the gun | |
| I see you shining your way | |
| Go on go on go on |