Skip to content
Lyric
Dive
Public playlists
My playlists
Search
Sign in
Tall Tale No. 5
Radical Face
Popularity ยท Low
+
๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
0
0
Listen
YouTube
1
2
3
0:00 / 0:00
Loading YouTube player...
Lyrics offset
Synced
Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Oh, I was born on a Sunday with blood on my hands
In a room full of photographs and old electric fans
And I slept in a graveyard for bicycles and cars
And I dreamed of distant scenery, but never strayed too far
'Cause I'd do what they'd asked me
I'd never run my mouth
And by the time they turn against me
I'll have you figured out
I learned to lie
By watching you turn to your enemies
And the apple you've got in your eye
Has become a stain you don't want
So, I left for the city
As soon as I could walk
But the buildings loomed like sentinels
It wasn't what I thought
So, I slept in your bathtub
While you put our makeup on
And I daydreamed about your lungs
'Til your cigarettes were gone
Now, I wrote 'cause I have to
I'm never welcome home
And though this road is to disaster
I've always got my songs
And I learned to laugh (ha-ha-ha-ha)
By watching you burn all your photographs
And you're right that the good stuff won't last
But these wars are never won by a-twiddlin' thumbs
ย
Well, I did what they asked me
I never ran my mouth
And by the time they turned against me
I had them figured out
And now I roam 'cause I have to
I'm never welcome home
And though this road is to disaster
I've always got my songs
And I learned to die
By watching you choke on your misery
If the apple is torn from my eye
Well, I won't be alone, 'cause I'm going home
ย