Held Up By The Wires - Album Lyrics
| Song | Held Up By The Wires - Album |
| Artist | State Radio |
| Album | Let It Go |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : State Radio | |
| Bought the old farmland for a song | |
| Sold it for many reasons | |
| Too many of them wrong | |
| Horseshoe bets and the women that came along | |
| Blind-drunk on their demon rum | |
| Is knowledge a product of his holiness | |
| A mad cousin to his loneliness | |
| Maniacs in cages | |
| And patriots and sages | |
| A cruel old/on telling of the books | |
| But I'll not give | |
| Myself, to the ground | |
| I kill more than | |
| I Live so slowly | |
| Live so slowly | |
| Say one thing and then do another | |
| Bunker down in your alsatian den | |
| We ain't got room for your politics here | |
| Politicians make a bad name for the con-man | |
| And water felt like burning metal | |
| Set off by a dying sun | |
| Them women they circle | |
| Like covered wagons crying | |
| Their loved ones back from where they, gone | |
| And I'll not give | |
| Myself to the ground | |
| I kill more than | |
| I Live so slowly | |
| Live so slowly |
| zuo qu : State Radio | |
| Bought the old farmland for a song | |
| Sold it for many reasons | |
| Too many of them wrong | |
| Horseshoe bets and the women that came along | |
| Blinddrunk on their demon rum | |
| Is knowledge a product of his holiness | |
| A mad cousin to his loneliness | |
| Maniacs in cages | |
| And patriots and sages | |
| A cruel old on telling of the books | |
| But I' ll not give | |
| Myself, to the ground | |
| I kill more than | |
| I Live so slowly | |
| Live so slowly | |
| Say one thing and then do another | |
| Bunker down in your alsatian den | |
| We ain' t got room for your politics here | |
| Politicians make a bad name for the conman | |
| And water felt like burning metal | |
| Set off by a dying sun | |
| Them women they circle | |
| Like covered wagons crying | |
| Their loved ones back from where they, gone | |
| And I' ll not give | |
| Myself to the ground | |
| I kill more than | |
| I Live so slowly | |
| Live so slowly |
| zuò qǔ : State Radio | |
| Bought the old farmland for a song | |
| Sold it for many reasons | |
| Too many of them wrong | |
| Horseshoe bets and the women that came along | |
| Blinddrunk on their demon rum | |
| Is knowledge a product of his holiness | |
| A mad cousin to his loneliness | |
| Maniacs in cages | |
| And patriots and sages | |
| A cruel old on telling of the books | |
| But I' ll not give | |
| Myself, to the ground | |
| I kill more than | |
| I Live so slowly | |
| Live so slowly | |
| Say one thing and then do another | |
| Bunker down in your alsatian den | |
| We ain' t got room for your politics here | |
| Politicians make a bad name for the conman | |
| And water felt like burning metal | |
| Set off by a dying sun | |
| Them women they circle | |
| Like covered wagons crying | |
| Their loved ones back from where they, gone | |
| And I' ll not give | |
| Myself to the ground | |
| I kill more than | |
| I Live so slowly | |
| Live so slowly |
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