Brother In the Night

The Weeks

Score: 49
/
Played: 74

Album:

Dear Bo Jackson

Wiki:

Lyrics:

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Well I trace shapes in clouds and I saw things I never seen We move like renegades down in the states, reload that magazine Almost killed us in that city it was far to close to call So we put money in the bags, ripped wanted posters off the wall Say I’m wanted for a murder of a man I never seen They say I shot him dead, one to his head, somewhere in Holly Springs I may have killed a man before not the one that they exclaim They’ll see the barrel of my gun before they ever see me hang Oh if my southern heart's still pumping blood Still pumping blood Well I'll bury my money in the mighty Mississippi mud Oh and if my southern lungs won't let me breath Won't let me breath Well I'll wait for the cicadas and I’ll let them push it out for me Well death is always close, there's always vultures on my trail And the inside of this hotel's better than a prison cell Well that southern whiskeys stinging singing words upon my breath I was worried 'bout forgetting so I tattooed it on my chest I’m a southern man forever like the wind inside the pines And my grandpa used to sing it oh to my brother and I How I wish could get back the precious thoughts and newer skin And we scurried out the window before the cops they busted in Oh if my southern hearts still pumping blood Still pumping blood Well ill bury my money in the mighty Mississippi mud Oh and if my southern lungs won't let me breath Won't let me breath Well I'll wait for the cicadas and I’ll let them push it out for me We were messengers for millions, we're a midnight masquerade We can walk away form all this as the town goes up in flames As civilians in a war we can die right were we live You can walk away from all this go back home to see your kids I've got a knife inside my boot, yes my brother's got one too We can bring 'em all, let's have a ball, I've got nothing to lose I got hearts and bended knees that shake no one that can see No one here was coming faster, no one there will bother me Oh if my southern hearts still pumping blood Still pumping blood Well I'll bury my money in the mighty Mississippi mud Oh and if my southern lungs won't let me breath Won't let me breath Well I'll wait for the cicadas and I’ll let them push it out for me