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Zach Bryan —
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© Compilador: Antón Gavzov // el jefe del proyecto (https://Muzland.es)
± PPS (tempo): ♩ = 108-110 pulsaciones por minuto

Lyrics an Music by Zach Bryan


You took a train
To the south side of Boston,
You showed me where your
Old man stayed,
Took twenty-eight years
Of blood I was lost in
To feel loved on my own birthday.

And I always felt
Like I’s in between something,
Like home and somewhere far away,
But tonight, on the west side
In a bar out in Brooklyn
I saw tears outline
Your face.

Chorus:
     How lucky are we?
     It’s been a hell of a week,
     But you’re all grown now.

     There’s smoke seeping out
     Of your bloody teeth,
     But you’re home somehow.

And I’ll be upstairs
With the guitar I’s given,
When I was barely fourteen,
When did McGlinchey’s get so crowded
And why are the crowds
So damn green?

I lost my mind
On the streets of the city,
And maybe I lost all hope too.
Took twenty-eight years
Of blood pumping through me,
To get to this evening
With you.

Chorus:
     How lucky are we?
     It’s been a hell of a week,
     But you’re all grown now.

     There’s smoke seeping out
     Of the bar down the street,
     But we’re home somehow.

     How lucky are we?
     It’s been a hell of a week,
     But you’re all grown now.

     There’s smoke seeping out
     Of the bar down the street,
     But we’re home somehow.

You took a train
To the south side of Boston,
You showed me where your
Whole heart stayed,
Took twenty-eight years
Of blood pumping through me
To feel loved on my own birthday.

‌

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Estadística Publicado el 21.12.24
Visto 23103 veces
Transpuesto 30609 veces
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