Portugal. The Man

Guns. Guns...Guns


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Where have all the people gone
Whose lives are no longer of use to them?
But this system bites habit forming,
But this single file is so contagious
But black eyes breed gossip
These perverse and perversions alike
Just like these perverse and perversions

Hibernate while you're still young,
You are getting older, so much older,
So much older than you think, still
Not far but years away,
Your hands'll snake out in a serpent smile
Crank the tap, itch, brimming with suspicions,
The burrows are brimming with suspicions

Where have all the people gone
Whose guns are gold cold son of a bitch?
"I'll travel anywhere I like", he says
"I'll travel anywhere I please", he says
Your guns, big guns, suck life
These perverts and perversions alike
Just like this perverts and perversions

Hibernate while you're still young,
You are getting older, so much older,
So much older than you think, still
Not far but years away,
Your hands'll snake out in a serpent smile
Crank the tap, itch, brimming with suspicions,
The burrows are brimming with suspicions

Where have all the trumpets gone,
That played us "la-da da-da-da"?

The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way

The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way

The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way
The priest's on the boat and hell is on its way


Autor(es): John Baldwin Gourley

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