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• Artiste: Privates (The)
• Titre: I'll Be an Indian
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You've got shot You've taken a lot You just don't want this to end We've got time to spend We've got the facts So why can't you relax? You don't like it, keep it at bay Think I'd rather stay Rather stay inside And it's open wide Who will hold their heads tonight? The brightest bulbs are turning white Between their palms, their steady thumbs Below the call the stadiums The people with their hands above The only thing you're thinking of It's not enough It's not enough It's not enough You've got chops You hit the same spots He swears that you've wrapped it too tight He's been up all night Wringing his hands while you strike up the band He don't like it, don't want it that way Think I'd rather play Rather play inside And it makes me cry Tap your feet, shake your heads Though someone put us back to bed We're going through our past careers Like quiet faith's favorite fears And praying for someone so fair I'd like to push you down the stairs Right down the stairs Right down the stairs Right down the stairs The stairs