Paroles de Maybe I Should Drive
I'm on a b-road heading for the seaTo see if hands across the ocean
Shake or wave
(See if hands across the ocean
Shake or wave)
Through the whiplash of the windscreen wipers
I can see for miles
But all I do is watch the time
(I can see for miles
But all I see's the driver's hands)
He harbours thoughts on personal grief
I said your hardship's
Only one of a fleet
That didn't go down well
Listen son, if you'd spent
Your life in the last lane
You would have an accent to grind
Punch-drunk on patriotism
Blind-drunk on borderism
Maybe I should drive
And while you're castaway
The mice'll play
They'll have a license
To dull those left back home You would have an accent to grind
Punch-drunk on patriotism
Blind-drunk on borderism
Maybe I should drive
And as I jumped to these conclusions
He thumped his feet on the brakes
But we still hit a songwriter
Trudging through the rain
Scrambled out and watched him
Rest in pieces
Said a prayer and rifled
Through his pockets
And the side of his mouth
Still had something to say
At the toss of a coin
I end up head in the dirt
And tail in the air
And yet you can dance away
But be it friend or hard-up-man
Fellow or kin
When your chips are down
They're down for good
But all I do is watch the time
(I can see for miles
But all I see's the driver's hands)
He harbours thoughts on personal grief
I said your hardship's
Only one of a fleet
That didn't go down well
Listen son, if you'd spent
Your life in the last lane
You would have an accent to grind
Punch-drunk on patriotism
Blind-drunk on borderism
Maybe I should drive
And while you're castaway
The mice'll play
They'll have a license
To dull those left back home You would have an accent to grind
Punch-drunk on patriotism
Blind-drunk on borderism
Maybe I should drive
And as I jumped to these conclusions
He thumped his feet on the brakes
But we still hit a songwriter
Trudging through the rain
Scrambled out and watched him
Rest in pieces
Said a prayer and rifled
Through his pockets
And the side of his mouth
Still had something to say
At the toss of a coin
I end up head in the dirt
And tail in the air
And yet you can dance away
But be it friend or hard-up-man
Fellow or kin
When your chips are down
They're down for good
DOUGLAS, JOHN/READER, FRANK/LIVINGSTON, PAUL
© EMI Music Publishing
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© EMI Music Publishing
Paroles powered by LyricFind
