Wind Up (Letra)

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I have a choice between the bat and the belt
Each time I hear about the hand you’ve been dealt
Spare me confession, it’s confession you sell
Maybe I’ll fall behind but I don’t mind because I’ll catch up

I want a song that indelible like manimal
I hope you never see me wind up

Will I be happy on the back of the shelf
Will you be happy when we’re sharing a cell
Spare me your questions since you know me so well
Someday you’ll realize that I get shy and I choke up

I want a song that’s indelible like manimal
I hope you never see me wind up
What is wrong with this animal, I’m terrible
I hope you never see me wind up

Farewell my sweet paramania
(REPEAT)

My only promise is that I’ll never tell
Keep you at a distance from the things that I felt
I’ll bite the bullet, take the beating until
I take it all back anyway, what was I supposed to say?

I want a song that’s indelible like manimal
I hope you never see me wind up
What is wrong with this animal, I’m terrible
I hope you never see me wind up

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Wind Up (Letra)

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When i was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game,
I didn’t mind if they groomed me for success,
Or if they said that i was a fool.
So i left there in the morning
With their god tucked underneath my arm —
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So i asked this god a question
And by way of firm reply,
He said — i’m not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
Before i’m through i’d like to say my prayers —
I don’t believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong —
He’s not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to sunday school
And have all the bishops harmonize these lines —
How do you dare tell me that i’m my father’s son
When that was just an accident of birth.
I’d rather look around me — compose a better song
`cos that’s the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you’re a poorer man than me,
As you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don’t believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong —
He’s not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.

Wind Up (Letra)

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I got home about three a.m.,
Working my fingers to the bone.
My woman’s waiting up for me,
Gonna put me through the third degree.
"where you been? who you seen?"
Is all she wants to know.
I can’t lie to save my life
‘cause i got nothin’ to hide.

Let me tell you what’s been on my mind.
You been in the city again.
I ain’t lyin’, baby, i saw you on your high horse,
Walkin’ along like you didn’t belong
To any self-respecting man.
Is that the way you’re gonna repay
All the love that i’ve given to you?

It’s a wind-up, wind-up,
Wind up accusin’ me. (repeat)
Wind me up.

Maybe we should start all over again –
That’s the best advice.
Meet me halfway, and i’ll be there –
I been there so long, and now i’m coming home for rest.
I’m ok, how about you?
Everything i said, baby, was true.
We only got ourselves to blame –
Makin’ our bed is just a part of the game.

It’s a wind-up, wind-up,
Wind up accusin’ me.
Baby, it’s a wind-up, wind-up,
Wind-up for you and me. (repeat)
You want me, you want me to be.

You gotta stop what you do.
Wind-up, wind-up,
I don’t need no more of your lies.
Wind-up, wind-up.
I gotta stop now.
Wind-up, wind-up.

Wind Up (Letra)

Foo Fighters

Download

#Compartilhe

When i was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game,
I didn’t mind if they groomed me for success,
Or if they said that i was a fool.
So i left there in the morning
With their god tucked underneath my arm —
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So i asked this god a question
And by way of firm reply,
He said — i’m not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
Before i’m through i’d like to say my prayers —
I don’t believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong —
He’s not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to sunday school
And have all the bishops harmonize these lines —
How do you dare tell me that i’m my father’s son
When that was just an accident of birth.
I’d rather look around me — compose a better song
`cos that’s the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you’re a poorer man than me,
As you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don’t believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong —
He’s not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.