A Body on the Step American Murder Song
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "A Body on the Step" от American Murder Song. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Someone left it there broken with a sack for a head
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
With bruises on its ankles and a cross for a hand
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
With scratches on his cheek and beer on his breath
A body on the step and lies all about
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Someone left it there broken with a sack for a head
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
With bruises on its ankles and a cross for a hand
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
With scratches on his cheek and beer on his breath
A body on the step and lies all about
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