Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song A Thousand Lives, artist - The Herd. Date of issue: 25.08.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
A Thousand Lives |
| I grew up by the Great Western Highway on the train line |
| I used to count carriages of coal trains before I heard of |
| Cannonball and Coltrane, I was playing ball games |
| I’f go to sleep on Friday night, praying that it wouldn’t rain |
| Dad built a b-ball hoop then flew the coop |
| While us kids fought like troops and mum was the truth |
| I can’t believe I threw my sister through the front door |
| I learnt my lesson well before the triple 0 call |
| And on the tapedeck by brother had control |
| Getting schooled by him proper in the cold |
| Wenty falls, flannelette and skateboard, foggy wet weekends |
| Funny hour a four-litre cask makes you see friends |
| Parties at the park and drunk, tagging state rail |
| Smoke through empty cans of coke when all else failed |
| Wilin' out on muck up day, turned it into muck up night |
| Cause school didn’t seem to care if we were fuck ups right |
| We were blowing off steam, still not even 18 |
| Floating somewhere down stream with a vague dream |
| If could change an hour, maybe I’d move a minute |
| However many lives I’ve had, I’m only just beginning |
| I learnt a few things along the way |
| Try to keep 'em front and centre with me every day |
| All the rest can and will for away |
| Hold tight who you love and let the rest fall away |
| Don’t look back hoping for the same |
| Cause from where I’ve come I’ve changed |
| (I don’t know) how to explain the hundred lives I’ve lived |
| And the thousand more I’ve craved |
| In my happy younger days I was a blank page in an empty book |
| I recal l that naive innocence of childhood |
| Never really was wind, more a quiet one |
| Grew into a shy teen that didn’t seem to smile much |
| Took off for South America at 17 |
| Became a sudaco punk in skinny jeans |
| There I learned what passion, love, and friendship really means |
| Came home to a cold, cold world, that I couldn’t really feel |
| I was not the same, disappeared into a purple haze |
| Of weed smoke and drum & bass |
| Couldn’t seem to find my place |
| Then I did at Uni, fighting for causes |
| We reclaimed streets and taunted police forces |
| Had my heart broken so bad it left my head swimmin' |
| Proceeded to take it out on a few good women |
| Lived fast and reckless trying to outrun the sorrow |
| Like there was no tomorrow, but inside still hollow |
| Then the mic came and saved me, centre stage became a place |
| To vent my rage, cyphered and time and went for days |
| Staved off cynicism with wit and rhythm |
| A hundred lives and counting, a hundred to be written |