|
Robert Pollard - Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd lyrics
Great days are becoming A matchlight liquor establishment Where the factory soaks its scabs It hangs there like insectrocutioner Over the big river Scum of us rinsed by a hard rain The tar, the teeth & the gear Yet no trail All around the camp And that is our game To brag and complain To guess who goes next To tally the scars Learn every weakness |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Confessions by Usher |
 Back to Black by Amy Winehouse |
 The Rose, Vol. 2 by 2Pac |
 The Massacre by 50 Cent |
 Wanna Go Back by Eddie Money |
