about
Bury all belief you had of me, the clock was ticking now it’s gone,
I’ve got a fire in my heart, a burning hock and the years are rolling on,
There’s no point in sitting, waiting, wishing for the man to tell me it’s my turn,
I don’t want to look back at my life and realise that the glory days are gone,
I’m on my way, fresh from the flood,
It’s in my veins, it’s in my blood,
Well I could be buried six feet under, saturated by the soil and dirt and stone,
And my funeral could be the only place, where my friends will sing my songs,
I’m not a morbid kind of man, I’m just a worrier by trade, and that is all,
And my brother’s just the same but he won’t sing these songs about love and alcohol,
credits
from
Symptoms,
released November 24, 2014
license
all rights reserved