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 |