Paroles de la chanson The Getting By par The Killers
Chanson manquante pour "The Killers" ? Proposer les paroles
Proposer une correction des paroles de "The Getting By"
Proposer une correction des paroles de "The Getting By"
Paroles de la chanson The Getting By par The Killers
When I get up, she swears that she don't hear it
Says that I'm as quiet as a mouse
I comb my hair and throw some water on my face
And back out of the stillness of our house
Lately, my patience is in short supply
Nothing good seems to ever come from all this work
No matter how hard I try
You know I believe in the Son, I ain't no backslider
But my people were told they'd prosper in this land
Still, I know some who've never seen the ocean
Or set one foot on a velvet bed of sand
But they've got their treasure laying way up high
Says that I'm as quiet as a mouse
I comb my hair and throw some water on my face
And back out of the stillness of our house
Lately, my patience is in short supply
Nothing good seems to ever come from all this work
No matter how hard I try
You know I believe in the Son, I ain't no backslider
But my people were told they'd prosper in this land
Still, I know some who've never seen the ocean
Or set one foot on a velvet bed of sand
But they've got their treasure laying way up high
Where there might be many mansions
But when I look up, all I see is sky
Maybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath you
It'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it could
But maybe it's the stuff it takes to get up
In the morning and put another day in, son
That holds you till the getting's good
Green ribbon front doors, dishwater days
This whole town is tied to the torso of God's mysterious ways
Maybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath you
It'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it could
But maybe it's the stuff it takes to get up
In the morning and put another day in, son
But when I look up, all I see is sky
Maybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath you
It'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it could
But maybe it's the stuff it takes to get up
In the morning and put another day in, son
That holds you till the getting's good
Green ribbon front doors, dishwater days
This whole town is tied to the torso of God's mysterious ways
Maybe it's the getting by that gets right underneath you
It'd swallow up your every step, boy, if it could
But maybe it's the stuff it takes to get up
In the morning and put another day in, son
That keeps you standing where you should
So put another day in, son, and hold on till the getting's good
So put another day in, son, and hold on till the getting's good
Paroles.net dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
Sélection des chansons du moment
Les plus grands succès de The Killers
Concerts d'Indochine
