Lyrics:
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
Two men sittin' in straight back chairs
Feet propped up on the railin'
Sittin' in front of the country store
Discussin' how the crops were failin'
Ei la meg by deg på no vestkantkunst
Gutta lighter opp og trekker det vi kaller for sunt
Både grønt og brunt
Alle andre er på grunt vann
Stygge feite
20 soon
And someday maybe 30 too
I was born in '99, but raised by blink-182
We're so punk and we're so cool
I'm so drunk when I'm with you
I'm
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes's
Yonder peasant, who is he, where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
yeah I went blind
Now I peek over the fence, live for the beat, now we transcend high
Condolences to my apologies, you went and swept under the mat
sets free
Is forever free indeed
I was saved by the grace of God
I was chosen and I'm called
To become a fisher of men
Telling folks to go and repent
I
YOUNG FLANKERS ARE HARD TO COME BY
I hail from west Texas where the cowboy's still king
And that's all that I wanted to be.
I'd watch 'em ride by
with different type of shooters
Difference is if he get injured he switch teams ride the bitch
Difference is if I get injured, I'ma go behind the fence
Into the courtroom my trial began
Where I was handled by twelve honest men
Just before the jury started out
I saw the little judge commence to look
the other one lacks it
Guns are power controlled by assets owned by financial forecasters
Who are the masters? They are the gangsters, they are the bankers
ship to Robin Hood
He will cleanse the senses; he will strip you of pride
He will tear down fences; you will feel so alive
As you steal from rich men
I'ma back my brolo, we never fence, I'll leave you in a drench, uh
Grown men try act tough, fill 'em with cents
Check the crime scene, it's a ments,
the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes' fountain.
Bring me flesh and bring me wine, bring me pinelogs hither
Thou and I will see him
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint
is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain
flies, hypnotized by the wheel spin
Hear the crowd everybody's whistling
Lined on the fence
If you can put it all together three times
This one week
someone be there at all when Mantra most needs to be
Mantra held on, not too strong
Oh over there by the fence
I said over there by the fence
Baby Mantra
Yeah
Broke within
I used to be broke and sin
A bad kid by the age of ten
Nowadays I don't pretend (shh)
Circle real tight, and I don't trust
Yeah it's Fucking battle of the exes
Men acting pretentious
While women are puttin up fences
Protecting themselves from men
Afraid of being assaulted
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