Paroles de la chanson Gimme the Keys par Clutch
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Paroles de la chanson Gimme the Keys par Clutch
Squinting from blinding rays of the Sun, deep in the heart of July
There to perform for children of corn, whose crops stood well Twelve foot high
Three knaves remained to the end of the day, we refused their vile entreats
Standing our ground, we played for the ears between the harvester's teeth
Great Plains, hardcore scenes
May not be the biggest but, lord, they're mean
And though my mind has been shot to hell
The details of that night I remember well
Gravel and locust, they swore to rope us
We did our best to steer straight
There to perform for children of corn, whose crops stood well Twelve foot high
Three knaves remained to the end of the day, we refused their vile entreats
Standing our ground, we played for the ears between the harvester's teeth
Great Plains, hardcore scenes
May not be the biggest but, lord, they're mean
And though my mind has been shot to hell
The details of that night I remember well
Gravel and locust, they swore to rope us
We did our best to steer straight
Trailer and hitch, straight into the ditch
Praying to Jesus and the holy saints
Despite the violence, sometimes I look back
A nostalgia begins to take hold
Wisdom of sorts is found in due course
In the rows of silver and gold
Great Plains, hardcore scenes
May not be the biggest but, lord, they're mean
And though my mind has been shot to hell
The details of that night I remember well
Gimme the keys, they can keep the guarantee
Gimme the keys, and get the hell out of dodge
Hey man, we don't got your, we don't got your SM-57
Look dude, why don't you try some old-fashioned PMA
Praying to Jesus and the holy saints
Despite the violence, sometimes I look back
A nostalgia begins to take hold
Wisdom of sorts is found in due course
In the rows of silver and gold
Great Plains, hardcore scenes
May not be the biggest but, lord, they're mean
And though my mind has been shot to hell
The details of that night I remember well
Gimme the keys, they can keep the guarantee
Gimme the keys, and get the hell out of dodge
Hey man, we don't got your, we don't got your SM-57
Look dude, why don't you try some old-fashioned PMA
Through bloody butchers, we ran for hours
Then hours grew into years
Stalked by the fury of John Brown's eyes
And still the storm hasn't cleared
Despite the mileage, sometimes I look back
A nostalgia begins to take hold
Wisdom of sorts is found, of course, in rows of silver and gold
Great Plains, hardcore scenes
May not be the biggest but, lord, they're mean
And though my mind has been shot to hell
The details of that night I remember well
Gimme the keys, they can keep the guarantee
Gimme the keys, and get the hell out of dodge
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