Letra de Oh Heartland, Up Yours!
Letra powered by LyricFind
The stars collected
Each world accounted for
Freed all the children
Each world accounted for
Freed all the children
Seems there is nothing more
If I only had a rowboat I would row it up to heaven
And if heaven would not have me I would take the other option
I will seek out my own satisfaction
From the wine lying the bedroom
To the priest with his broken arrows
There's a method to the madness
They will feign an expression of sadness
A called cattle-nation of locusts
And the farmers are losing their focus
On the pitch of the avenue grasses
I will sing sing sing to the masses
Oh Heartland, up yours
The hollow voice of
Of fourteenth century
Too much assumption to be taken seriously
On the road like a Disney kid in cutoffs and a beater
With a feathered fringe, it doesn't suit a simonia greeter
Doesn't work doesn't fly doesn't handle
From the wine lying the bedroom
To the priest with his broken arrows
There's a method to the madness
They will feign an expression of sadness
A called cattle-nation of locusts
And the farmers are losing their focus
On the pitch of the avenue grasses
I will sing sing sing to the masses
Oh Heartland, up yours
(Oh violent lent violent lent violent lent)
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises here
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises here
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises here
If I only had a rowboat I would row it up to heaven
And if heaven would not have me I would take the other option
I will seek out my own satisfaction
From the wine lying the bedroom
To the priest with his broken arrows
There's a method to the madness
They will feign an expression of sadness
A called cattle-nation of locusts
And the farmers are losing their focus
On the pitch of the avenue grasses
I will sing sing sing to the masses
Oh Heartland, up yours
The hollow voice of
Of fourteenth century
Too much assumption to be taken seriously
On the road like a Disney kid in cutoffs and a beater
With a feathered fringe, it doesn't suit a simonia greeter
Doesn't work doesn't fly doesn't handle
From the wine lying the bedroom
To the priest with his broken arrows
There's a method to the madness
They will feign an expression of sadness
A called cattle-nation of locusts
And the farmers are losing their focus
On the pitch of the avenue grasses
I will sing sing sing to the masses
Oh Heartland, up yours
(Oh violent lent violent lent violent lent)
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises here
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises here
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises
I will not sing your praises here
Letra powered by LyricFind