Son Of Sam Donaldson - V-3 (columbus, Oh) Lyrics
By: Admin | Artist: V v 3 columbus oh | Published: 2024-29-09T08:32:11:00+07:00Lirikku.ID - Son Of Sam Donaldson - V-3 (columbus, Oh) Lyrics: Halo Lirikku.ID, Dalam konten ini, kami menyediakan chord gitar untuk lagu "Son Of Sam Donaldson - V-3 (columbus, Oh) Lyrics" yang dinyanyikan oleh Toton V v 3 columbus oh. Dengan chord yang disajikan, pemula atau penggemar musik dapat dengan mudah memainkan lagu ini dengan gitar mereka sendiri. Kami menyajikan chord dengan akurasi tinggi sehingga pemain dapat mengikuti alunan musiknya dengan baik. Juga, kami akan memberikan informasi tambahan mengenai lirik lagu dan mungkin beberapa tips untuk menyempurnakan permainan gitar. Konten ini cocok untuk penggemar musik yang ingin belajar lagu baru atau bagi mereka yang ingin menikmati kesenangan bermain musik dengan gitar. Silahkan disimak Son Of Sam Donaldson - V-3 (columbus, Oh) Lyrics Berikut Dibawah ini untuk Selanjutnya.
in the dark recesses of your bruised brain
in your intellectual whiskey glass you can do no harm
you can’t harm anarchists, you can’t hurt your dad
you tried, and you tried, and you shot yourself in the foot
down you went, your girlfriend screamed
fell down the stairs, got a hit record
the medicine man jacked you off
junkie joe told you about kerouac
you already knew all that, you knew all that
you bought into everything that seemed hip to the masses
beatle boots, sub pop, x*ray glasses
your uncle ray raped your cousin f*nny, you never got over it
it even k!lled your granny
you grabbed up your guitar, and you moved out the way
shot yourself in the foot, walking down a car rail line
you can’t harm anarchists, you can’t hurt your dad
you can’t hurt a mass murderer, you can’t blow up the world
you can’t hurt your dad
you can’t shoot the president, too many bodyguards
hinckley couldn’t shoot straight, hit a guy in the forehead
really wanted to shoot jodie foster, either that or f*ck her
drew her picture in the sand at coney island
bought twenty covers of her on the cover of vanity fair
the son of sam donaldson loaded his guns
you can’t hurt anarchists, you can’t hurt your dad
don’t buy him a cake on his birthday, it’ll only make him sad
you can’t hurt anarchists, you can’t hurt your dad
don’t buy him a cake on his birthday, it’ll only make him sad
reminds him of his wedding, when your mom became his wife
the poor b*st*rd told me, it was the worst day of his life
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