Register My Firearms? No Way! Lyrics & Tabs by The Russian Futurists
Register My Firearms? No Way!
guitar chords lyrics
The one thing hunting has slowly showed me
Is to stay stealth and to lay real low key
The ground is cold and the woods are lonely
And patience pays off and aim is so key
The one thing angling's been wrangling from me
Is keep what you catch or you'll go hungry and
The rocks and rains are the pains that stung me
It's feast or famine out in the country
Your bed's made, lie down, find out what is missing here
And ask yourself if things are getting crystal clear
'Cause love is thick and life's a loaded pistol, dear
So cock that hammer back and then just disappear
And you're bed ridden, head's hidden in the sand
The match gets lit and it's still singeing your hand
And you're bed ridden, head's hidden in the sand
And you're bed ridden, head's hidden in the sand
The match gets lit and it's still singeing your hand
And you're bed ridden, head's hidden in the sand
The match gets lit and it's still singeing your hand
You sit back with a lit match fuming
Lights out in a pitch black room and
You sit back with a lit match burning
A dead start with the wheels still turning
You sit back with a lit match fuming
Lights out in a pitch black room and
You sit back with a lit match drowning
A dead start with the pistons pounding
You're a slow learner but a fast starter
You sulk around like you're the class martyr
When things go worse for you, we laugh harder
And throw baby out with the bath water
Your bed's made, lie down, find out what is missing here
And ask yourself if things are getting crystal clear
'Cause love is thick and life's a loaded pistol, dear
So cock that hammer back and then just disappear
And you're bed ridden, head's hidden in the sand
The match gets lit and it's still singeing your hand
And you're bed ridden, head's hidden in the sand
The match gets lit and it's still singeing your hand
You sit back with a lit match fuming
Lights out in a pitch black room and
You sit back with a lit match burning
A dead start with the wheels still turning
You sit back with a lit match fuming
Lights out in a pitch black room and
You sit back with a lit match drowning
A dead start with the pistons pounding
