a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de ten ton summer - the dead century

[verse 1]
blame it on the boredom and bad luck
the consequences of a ten ton summer
heavy handed and holed up
heavy hearted and a half-rate lover

i spent a quarter century half asleep
with bad bourbon in brown bag covers
and all the little secrets i said i’d keep in deep
fever dreams, petty thieves, one after another

[chorus 1]
tired and stupid and out of excuses
careless and cut up, covered in bruises
loose lips like nooses, just losing whatever i hold
lighting candles in churches and candles in bedrooms
crushing and clipping, headboards, headroom
i’m running out of fire but i’m getting kind of used to the cold
i ain’t no good at growing old

[verse 2]
blame it on the lack of experience
the status quo of staying insincere
when every second got serious
when every morning got a little unclear
i blame the bars and the late nights
the purple haze that made the world taste sweeter
the blurry love songs and bright lights, skin tight
b-rate byron in four-four meter
[chorus 2]
gunning past midnight, burning through blessings
way past shelf-life, ignoring the messes, man
a hundred good guesses, i thought that i could follow a hunch
but it came on a corner, hard on my blindside
tripped up, torn up, tied up in high tide
d-mn near crucified, i never landed a punch
i should have figured as much
(maybe i’m losing my touch)

[verse 3]
tally all the sins as a sunk cost
the failed attempts to keep my life on track
there’s no use missing the time lost
you lose more when you try to step back
i blame the boredom and bad luck
and all the secrets that it helped me uncover
like losing youth and losing you
the consequences of a ten ton summer

[chorus 3]
forward facing f-ckups, high since high school
never been better, man, life sk!lls, night moves
i got my act together now, i’m learning to buy what i’m sold
i got geared up, gored up through the machine, and
ripped up, wrung out, looking real clean
all spent, can’t repent, i’m fitting into a mold
i ain’t no good at growing old

- the dead century

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS