Представляем точный текст композиции "Blood On The Frets" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста Speechwriters LLC . Эта интерпретация слов песни помогает лучше понять смысл заложенный в композицию. Лирика «Blood On The Frets» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую Speechwriters LLC передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани этого трека.
Speechwriters LLC - "Blood On The Frets"
Lyrics to Blood On The Frets : Just another westside story A California kid out to drink himself to glorious excess tonight Im dressed to fight, and maybe get my shit together if it sets just right Cause Ive been walking like a hawk with too much on my mind Staring at the clock and taking what I can find To let the tension increase I need a tension release To find some quiet for my head and not to mention some peace So its a no tie, bringing Y.O.B. affair People getting stupid and forgetting their cares Its just a Saturday scene, you know what I mean I find some people in the crowd to stick myself in between Soft-spoken, pot-smoking through the broken-down curls But I never hit my stride with the southern-fried girls This ones got a sun dress, the others got pearls Nice and easy on the eyes but never rocking my world And now Im homebound thinking bout a girl that I shouldnt Start to write a letter though I told myself I wouldnt Pine away for her, Id pray for her, if I thought there was a God Whod let me stay with her Did she get my last tape, did she think it was great Did she kick herself again for not remaining my mate Or did she throw it away, get on with her day And cuddle up against a lover in the usual way My eyes are wet, theres blood on the frets And somethings telling me that this is good as it gets Until the next go-round, Ive got to slow down Or Ill be just another topic for the talk of the town I got a brand new cell, but its the same old hell Im just a walking sack of sorrow with a story to tell But in a city of shit, whos got the patience to sit And watch a broken-hearted emissary throwing a fit The bile rising up in my throats straight acidic My record with the women like Teds at Chappaquiddick Its the wrong track, but you can never go back And now Im down and out the mission with a head full of flak Its holding me upright, but making me uptight And bouncing out my speakers so its keeping me up nights Im broken in two but what the fuck can I do I try to clear my mind but only find Im thinking of you Cause while the lovers make love in moonlit parks Im drinking Heineken and playing with myself in the dark I like to think that youre mine, and everythings fine That I could take you home tonight and not be way out of line My eyes are wet, theres blood on the frets And somethings telling me that this is good as it gets Until the next go-round, Ive got to slow down Or Ill be just another topic for the talk of the town [ Blood On The Frets Lyrics ]
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