Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sound


Interface


Difficulty level


Accent



interface language

en

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie policy   |   Support   |   FAQ
1
register / login
Lyrkit

donate

5$

Lyrkit

donate

10$

Lyrkit

donate

20$

Lyrkit

And/Or support me in social. networks:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
The Shins

Red Rabbits

 

Red Rabbits

(album: Wincing The Night Away - 2007)


Hurled to the center of the Earth again
The place where it's hot, love
You know, it hurts to breathe in
And the watershed you balance on is begging it
Well did he ever know
Will he ever know?

The trees in the moonshine are a dark lattice
So you catalog every angle you notice
In a vacuum you are charged to record this
So you won't make it easy on me

And I can't go into this no more
It puts too many thorns on my mind
And the necessary balloon lies a corpse on the floor
We've pissed on far too many sprites
And they're all standing up for their rights

Born on a desert floor, you've the deepest thirst
And you came to my sweet shore to indulge it
With the warm and dreaming eyes of an orphan
But there is not enough
There is not enough

Out of a gunnysack for red rabbits
Into the crucible to be rendered an emulsion
And we can't allow a chance they'd restore themselves
So we can't make it easy on you

Undaunted, you bathe in hollow cries
The boys with swollen, sun-burnt eyes
A reward for letting nothing under their skin
So help me, I don't know, I might
Just give the old dark side a try

Don't cast your whirling eyes on the shore
'Til we even the score
I still owe you for the hole in the floor
And the ghost in the hall
Who decides who paddles over the falls?
Yeah, who makes the call
Who makes the call?

Well, I know there's an eventual
Release from every scale of crime
But the necessary balloon lies a corpse on the floor
We've pissed on far too many good intentions held by clever sprites
And they're all standing up for their rights

done

Did you add all the unfamiliar words from this song?