Search results for 'take a bullet for you by bourbon crow'

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För Sent För Edelweiss (Håkan Hellström) · Crow/Crow: City of Angels (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Live För Dig (Lars Winnerbäck) · Ett Slag För Dig (Tomas Andersson Wij) · Känn Ingen Sorg för Mig Göteborg (Håkan Hellström) · Jag Är Inte Rädd För Mörkret (Kent) · Ett Slag För Dig (Tomas Andersson Wij) · Take Care Take Care Take Care (Explosions in the Sky) · Take Care, Take Care, Take Care (Explosions in the Sky) · Take Care, Take Care, Take Care (Explosions in the Sky) – and 90 other albums »

And a crescent city breeze
One wrong turn on Bourbon
Cuts like the knives of New Orleans

I'm a ghost dodging bullets
In all of these alleys
Just looking for
be held by the same hand 

What's it gonna take to liberate? 
An emancipation, a false proclamation? 
All these token words that you legislate
by on the shore 
Yes that's your spirit inside you just waiting 
It's time to move, now that much you must know 

Step outside and take a breath
cried, it's so hot inside
You could die in the living room
Take the fan from the window
Prop the door back with a broom
The cuckoo clock has died
You're given two sets of clues
With the answers all the same
And a two-speed crossword
Called 'love in the suds'
Your bullet holes are screaming
I don't even want the nomination
Piss on it, piss on it 
Throw it in the trash and kiss it 

I will not eat crow for you or anyone else 
I will
the cause for the pause you think you see
Is really concentration of the steel
I got a bullet with a name on it
Bullet with a name

You see everybody's
can't even drink it
Well, maybe by Christmas they'll dig up the roads
Take whatever you can, girl
Leave the rest for the crows
Leave the rest for
controlled by remote?
Oh, Calling duppy conqueror
I'm the ghost catcher
This is your chance, oh big, big Bill bull-bucka
Take your chance, prove yourself,
weapons to show you that I'm not afraid
Take the bullets away
Take the bullets away

Am I worthless?
Am I filthy?
Am I too far gone for a remedy?
Will you
Luther King

It was just one shot
Through the kitchen window
Just one or two miles from here
If you fly like a crow

A bullet came to visit a doctor
Inch by inch, row by row,
Gonna make this garden grow,
All it takes is a rake and a hoe,
And a piece of fertile ground.

Inch by inch, row by
to Slygoville, coffin runnin' around,
Upsetting, upsetting, upsetting the town,
Asking for Mr Brown
I wanna know who (is Mr Brown)?
Is Mr Brown controlled by
closer than your next to kin
Thick as these and the best of friends
Take a bullet for each other

Yea brothers a light that don't come cheap
The mystic landscape makes me stop, take a walk through shadow fields
Three crows pass me by and in awe I remember their names and I call out
To the queens
Well I said honey you don't know me
But I feel like I know you
Do you mind if I come in
It'll only take a minute or two
And by the way, I really
but who do you think got the dough?

Take a look at that pilgrim passin' by
He's lookin' for love, I can see it in his eyes
He's runnin' 'round in
take it so hard
Other people get by
With either bourbon or god
But my world became this one boy
It's the way that I'm made
Do you think I enjoy it?
"When the time is right, I'll strike
And condescend to the earth below
And take whichever treat I'd like"
The moment the baker turned around
Shatterproof, who woulda thought that the edge of the earth
Is underneath you feet right where you stand
I can see land from the crow's
war waged on the people government lies fueled by fear trust the unity and machine gun bullet in the head for my indiscretions how much oppression
Inch by inch, row by row, I'm gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe and a piece of fertile ground
Inch by inch, row by row,
bullet stuck in your mouth
I have you screaming for your last breath, yeah
I shoved the boat deep inside
I still waiting for the devour

You take the high

Marrow fly to di sky me no punk and no guy me takes, no alibi, anyway


Boy now ya dead and inna bush you a smell

Hey ya run inna me gun
Standing in the red light of a Bourbon Street French Quarter
Where I met a Spanish Porter who obliged me with his grin
He asked me for my time, I