Guitarred And Feathered Lyrics
| Song | Guitarred And Feathered |
| Artist | Every Time I Die |
| Album | Gutter Phenomenon |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Every Time I Die | |
| This is a cause for celebration, here in the belly of the swarm. | |
| The situation demands that we raise our glasses in honor of the spokesman we've fixated to the floor. | |
| Give us your headlines, hymns, and your saddest verse. | |
| You're not partnered with the half-hearted anymore. | |
| Our legs are spread wide open, our weary heads are splitting at the seams and we all know you're proficient in the idioms of grief. | |
| We are capable of the kind of love about which only the petrified can speak. | |
| Concede him the microphone, let him sing the triumph of the frauds to all his loyal psychofanatics. | |
| We all cater to the fire, once the walls come rushing down for shame. | |
| I can say it better than you felt it. | |
| And I can be it bigger than you needed it. | |
| I haven't lived a day of my life apart from the one that everyone's read about. | |
| I'll spark de-evolution. | |
| I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines. | |
| I've been fattened up for the guillotines. | |
| Sweet talker, you're goddamn right | |
| I'm a blessed lamb. | |
| I can show you how to have a good time. | |
| I know why you came here, but neither of us will get what you want out of me. | |
| This room has one too many laureates so | |
| I'm keeping my peace. | |
| Every candidate ends his life with a cliche, and the paths of glory lead to nowhere but the grave. | |
| I've been spoiled rotten. | |
| Every thought | |
| I've authored has curdled. | |
| Not everything is poetry but | |
| I can't convince you of that. | |
| I've been drawn and quartered. | |
| I've been twice picked over. | |
| And it's sickening what you've come here today to celebrate. | |
| **** yeah, we're gonna party tonight. | |
| I am capable of the kind of love about which only the intoxicated and the | |
| California bound can weep. |
| zuo qu : Every Time I Die | |
| This is a cause for celebration, here in the belly of the swarm. | |
| The situation demands that we raise our glasses in honor of the spokesman we' ve fixated to the floor. | |
| Give us your headlines, hymns, and your saddest verse. | |
| You' re not partnered with the halfhearted anymore. | |
| Our legs are spread wide open, our weary heads are splitting at the seams and we all know you' re proficient in the idioms of grief. | |
| We are capable of the kind of love about which only the petrified can speak. | |
| Concede him the microphone, let him sing the triumph of the frauds to all his loyal psychofanatics. | |
| We all cater to the fire, once the walls come rushing down for shame. | |
| I can say it better than you felt it. | |
| And I can be it bigger than you needed it. | |
| I haven' t lived a day of my life apart from the one that everyone' s read about. | |
| I' ll spark deevolution. | |
| I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines. | |
| I' ve been fattened up for the guillotines. | |
| Sweet talker, you' re goddamn right | |
| I' m a blessed lamb. | |
| I can show you how to have a good time. | |
| I know why you came here, but neither of us will get what you want out of me. | |
| This room has one too many laureates so | |
| I' m keeping my peace. | |
| Every candidate ends his life with a cliche, and the paths of glory lead to nowhere but the grave. | |
| I' ve been spoiled rotten. | |
| Every thought | |
| I' ve authored has curdled. | |
| Not everything is poetry but | |
| I can' t convince you of that. | |
| I' ve been drawn and quartered. | |
| I' ve been twice picked over. | |
| And it' s sickening what you' ve come here today to celebrate. | |
| yeah, we' re gonna party tonight. | |
| I am capable of the kind of love about which only the intoxicated and the | |
| California bound can weep. |
| zuò qǔ : Every Time I Die | |
| This is a cause for celebration, here in the belly of the swarm. | |
| The situation demands that we raise our glasses in honor of the spokesman we' ve fixated to the floor. | |
| Give us your headlines, hymns, and your saddest verse. | |
| You' re not partnered with the halfhearted anymore. | |
| Our legs are spread wide open, our weary heads are splitting at the seams and we all know you' re proficient in the idioms of grief. | |
| We are capable of the kind of love about which only the petrified can speak. | |
| Concede him the microphone, let him sing the triumph of the frauds to all his loyal psychofanatics. | |
| We all cater to the fire, once the walls come rushing down for shame. | |
| I can say it better than you felt it. | |
| And I can be it bigger than you needed it. | |
| I haven' t lived a day of my life apart from the one that everyone' s read about. | |
| I' ll spark deevolution. | |
| I was specially bred for the cover page of your magazines. | |
| I' ve been fattened up for the guillotines. | |
| Sweet talker, you' re goddamn right | |
| I' m a blessed lamb. | |
| I can show you how to have a good time. | |
| I know why you came here, but neither of us will get what you want out of me. | |
| This room has one too many laureates so | |
| I' m keeping my peace. | |
| Every candidate ends his life with a cliche, and the paths of glory lead to nowhere but the grave. | |
| I' ve been spoiled rotten. | |
| Every thought | |
| I' ve authored has curdled. | |
| Not everything is poetry but | |
| I can' t convince you of that. | |
| I' ve been drawn and quartered. | |
| I' ve been twice picked over. | |
| And it' s sickening what you' ve come here today to celebrate. | |
| yeah, we' re gonna party tonight. | |
| I am capable of the kind of love about which only the intoxicated and the | |
| California bound can weep. |
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