| These mountains make me crazy
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| My legs can’t seem to stand
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| «And I’ll be leaving in the morning with or without you» she said
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| If I’m breaking what I’m building
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| I’ve ripped out every single stone
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| And you can break my soul or bones girl but you can’t destroy my home
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| No you can’t destroy my home
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| If the street lights they all flicker
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| Just like candles in the street
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| I will give my soul to strangers and let the bastards sell it cheap
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| I’ve seen girls out on the street, lord
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| Men drunk on the boulevard
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| The kings all know my face lord and the jokers pulled my card
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| Oh, the jokers pulled my card
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| They say that that doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
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| And I should be pretty strong or so it seems
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| Cause I almost died a thousand times
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| Oh, death it follows me
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| I guess that’s what separates us gods from kings
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| We will plant our dead in boxes
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| And pray to god that something grows
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| Leave the widow on her knees, Boys
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| Dressed in black with empty hopes
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| The children’s screams are crazy
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| Their eyes are blacked out from the smoke
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| I can spare my bread and water, but I cannot spare my coat
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| No, I cannot spare my coat
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| Don’t damn my imagination
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| Cause my dreams are all I have
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| Well In the day its damp and dirty
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| But when I sleep it’s not that bad
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| Dirty hands they cling to boxcars
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| Tender tears stain frozen cheeks
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| We’re all searching for salvation but we won’t find it in these streets
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| We won’t find it in these streets
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| They say that that doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
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| And I should be pretty strong or so it seems
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| Cause I almost died a thousand times
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| Oh, death it follows me
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| I guess that’s what separates us gods from kings
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| Everybody lives for something
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| I guess I must live to think
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| You can have my thoughts at half the cost
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| Because I think they’re killing me
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| The tree lines weave through fields
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| Giant serpents of the south
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| I’ve seen the sun set on the ocean
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| I’ve seen the daylight drown itself
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| Poets drink their whiskey
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| They point out problems in our lives
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| Well you will never read his notebooks
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| He won’t be famous till he dies
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| Well without our hearts we’re nothing
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| And without our spines we’re weak
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| You can pump my blood or hold me up but that still want make me free
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| No that still won’t make me free |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mountains Make Me Crazy, artist - The Weeks. Album song Gutter Gaunt Gangster, in the genre Иностранный рок