Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pale Rider , by - Wind Walkers. Song from the album The Lost Boys, in the genre Пост-хардкорRelease date: 20.06.2018
Record label: Tunecore
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pale Rider , by - Wind Walkers. Song from the album The Lost Boys, in the genre Пост-хардкорPale Rider |
| Not a man, nothing more he only knows what he’s not |
| He has a clot in his veins, keeping love from his heart |
| His eyes grow colder with each shoulder turned away in disgrace |
| His legs are shaking from the wading through the decades of waste |
| Searching for meaning in any place that he can |
| He’s looking for peace with a gun in his hand |
| Searching for meaning in any place that he can |
| He’s looking for peace with a gun in his hand |
| Swing low burning chariot, pick him up and carry him home |
| Burn slow fading chariot, burn slow, burn slow |
| He poured his heart into that California sunset once again |
| So when the morning comes |
| It could rise home in Massachusetts |
| But his heart is gone sailing over the Pacific |
| I guess he’s wrong, home is never where your heart is, after all |
| She’s not a goddess she’s a statue and she’s stuck in one place |
| She’s a one woman cult and the mirror’s her faith |
| She can’t pass by it without crying, falling down on knees |
| She prays to whoever listens to change what she sees |
| Swing low, swing low, so I guess he’s wrong, home is never where your heart is |
| Burn slow, burn slow, so I guess he’s wrong, home is never where your heart is |
| Swing low, swing low, they poured their hearts into the road that they traveled |
| on |
| Burn slow, burn slow, so I guess he’s wrong, home is never where your heart |
| belongs |
| Swing low burning chariot, pick him up and carry him home |
| Burn slow fading chariot, burn slow, burn slow |
| He poured his heart into that California sunset once again |
| So when the morning comes |
| It could rise home in Massachusetts |
| But his heart is gone sailing over the Pacific |
| I guess he’s wrong, home is never where your heart is, after all |
| His name was death, and hell followed with him |
| Walking through fire his feet burned and blistered |
| He called for help but no one would listen |
| His name was death, and hell followed with him |
| Walking through fire his feet burned and blistered |
| So he called to his demons and dragged them down with him |
| Dragged them down with him |
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