| Song | On All Fours |
| Artist | Living Things |
| Album | Ahead of the Lions |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| dyc200制作 | |
| Three weeks and counting | |
| 'till he's on his way to France | |
| Not a dime in his pocket | |
| but a ticket in his hand | |
| He's a cynical bastard | |
| but there's hope in his eyes | |
| It's been a long time coming | |
| It's been a long time running from his insides | |
| He tries hard to songwrite his way out of bed | |
| But nothing tastes and clever as it sounded in his head | |
| He wants to get his teeth wet and sink his feet in | |
| He should have billions of dollars | |
| 'Cause every ass hole's put two cents in | |
| And he writes the songs | |
| Yeah he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he's wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He's got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours | |
| Nine out of ten mother fuckers agree | |
| That his fucking foul language Is a fucking travesty | |
| But mother fucking fuck is just another fucking word | |
| The idea a word is dirty is too in-fucking-absurd | |
| And he writes the songs | |
| Yeah he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he's wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He's got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours | |
| And this world will soon be the death of him | |
| And his voice will fade away | |
| And his jeans will be all that's left of him | |
| And they'll onder if he was okay | |
| And the alchys will say it was drinking | |
| And the preacher will say it was sin | |
| And his mother will say he was thinking only of himself again | |
| And the gays will say it was straight people | |
| And the straights will say it was AIDS | |
| And he'll be in line at the gate | |
| People still standing in his way | |
| In his way | |
| Yeah he writes the songs | |
| And he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he's wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He's got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours |
| dyc200 zhi zuo | |
| Three weeks and counting | |
| ' till he' s on his way to France | |
| Not a dime in his pocket | |
| but a ticket in his hand | |
| He' s a cynical bastard | |
| but there' s hope in his eyes | |
| It' s been a long time coming | |
| It' s been a long time running from his insides | |
| He tries hard to songwrite his way out of bed | |
| But nothing tastes and clever as it sounded in his head | |
| He wants to get his teeth wet and sink his feet in | |
| He should have billions of dollars | |
| ' Cause every ass hole' s put two cents in | |
| And he writes the songs | |
| Yeah he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he' s wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He' s got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours | |
| Nine out of ten mother fuckers agree | |
| That his fucking foul language Is a fucking travesty | |
| But mother fucking fuck is just another fucking word | |
| The idea a word is dirty is too infuckingabsurd | |
| And he writes the songs | |
| Yeah he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he' s wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He' s got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours | |
| And this world will soon be the death of him | |
| And his voice will fade away | |
| And his jeans will be all that' s left of him | |
| And they' ll onder if he was okay | |
| And the alchys will say it was drinking | |
| And the preacher will say it was sin | |
| And his mother will say he was thinking only of himself again | |
| And the gays will say it was straight people | |
| And the straights will say it was AIDS | |
| And he' ll be in line at the gate | |
| People still standing in his way | |
| In his way | |
| Yeah he writes the songs | |
| And he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he' s wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He' s got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours |
| dyc200 zhì zuò | |
| Three weeks and counting | |
| ' till he' s on his way to France | |
| Not a dime in his pocket | |
| but a ticket in his hand | |
| He' s a cynical bastard | |
| but there' s hope in his eyes | |
| It' s been a long time coming | |
| It' s been a long time running from his insides | |
| He tries hard to songwrite his way out of bed | |
| But nothing tastes and clever as it sounded in his head | |
| He wants to get his teeth wet and sink his feet in | |
| He should have billions of dollars | |
| ' Cause every ass hole' s put two cents in | |
| And he writes the songs | |
| Yeah he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he' s wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He' s got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours | |
| Nine out of ten mother fuckers agree | |
| That his fucking foul language Is a fucking travesty | |
| But mother fucking fuck is just another fucking word | |
| The idea a word is dirty is too infuckingabsurd | |
| And he writes the songs | |
| Yeah he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he' s wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He' s got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours | |
| And this world will soon be the death of him | |
| And his voice will fade away | |
| And his jeans will be all that' s left of him | |
| And they' ll onder if he was okay | |
| And the alchys will say it was drinking | |
| And the preacher will say it was sin | |
| And his mother will say he was thinking only of himself again | |
| And the gays will say it was straight people | |
| And the straights will say it was AIDS | |
| And he' ll be in line at the gate | |
| People still standing in his way | |
| In his way | |
| Yeah he writes the songs | |
| And he can say what he wants | |
| Yeah he can be who he wants to | |
| And they say he' s wrong | |
| But they keep tagging along | |
| Yeah they can leave if they want to | |
| And his way will never meet yours | |
| He' s got the world his back | |
| And watch him take it On all fours |