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
Shovels & Rope

Bullet Belt

 

Bullet Belt

(album: Busted Jukebox, Volume 1 - 2015)


Hey Daddy tell me 'bout the time you had to go to jail for smoking pot
An Iron Maiden concert in a Carolina parking lot
Whoa
And when you had to listen to recordings on a record player
And your band all had to plug into a little amplifier
Just to hear over the drums,
Hear over the drums,
I can only hear the drums,
I can only hear the drums.

Well 1969 to 1977
It was 8 years of heaven 'hind the 7-11
Staying out all night
While we kept our engines revving
And we'd never make it home before dawn...
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just playing with the hand I was dealt
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just a chip off the ol' bullet belt.

Hey momma tell me bout the time you would sneak out of your window
And meet up with your other friends and smoke your cigarettes
And blow the smoke into another girl's mouth
Whoa
And when you drove across the country
With your stoner friends all in a van
To fill up all your mason jars with the California sand
California sand, California sand
California, California, California sand

Well 1969 to 1977
It was 8 years of heaven 'hind the 7-11
Staying out all night

While we kept our engines revving
And we'd never make it home before dawn...
Hair dyed black,
A walking marshall stack
We'd play all night shows behind the chicken shack
Sitting back to back,
We were a heart attack'
Giving the finger to the cops on the lawn
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just playing with the hand I was dealt
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just a chip off the ol' bullet belt

Well 1969 to 1977
It was 8 years of heaven 'hind the 7-11
Staying out all night
While we kept our engines revving
And we'd never make it home before dawn...
Hair dyed black,
A walking marshall stack
We'd play all night shows behind the chicken shack
Sitting back to back,
We were a heart attack'
Giving the finger to the cops on the lawn
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just playing with the hand I was dealt
Maybe...
I'm not that crazy
I'm just a chip off the ol' bullet belt

done

Did you add all the unfamiliar words from this song?