| Did you ever think the earth would shake for me once more?
|
| I want to see the sky light up over this city left for poor
|
| Everybody’s screaming; |
| no one here can ask what for
|
| And I just can’t shake this feeling
|
| That we’re outta luck and nothing more
|
| A pound of dust, a holy war
|
| A photograph, I begged and I swore
|
| But I still want a little more
|
| Pull the luck out of this county; |
| bucket crown ain’t no disguise
|
| I’ve left to stop the bleeding with a hope to realize
|
| My misery is teeming; |
| my heart could be stealing yours
|
| And I just can’t shake this feeling
|
| That we’re outta luck and nothing more
|
| A pound of dust, a holy war
|
| A photograph, I begged and I swore
|
| But I still want a little more
|
| Well I just can’t shake this feeling
|
| That we’re outta luck and nothing more
|
| A pound of dust, a holy war
|
| A photograph, I begged and I swore
|
| But I still want a little more
|
| It’s okay to tear the pictures from the frames that hold them still
|
| Rattle all the cages, gather enemies on Capitol Hill
|
| Yell at the sky, some kind of ideal bill
|
| And I just can’t shake this feeling
|
| That we’re outta luck and nothing more
|
| A pound of dust, a holy war
|
| A photograph, I begged and I swore
|
| But I still want a little more |