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

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Brandi Carlile

Broken Horses

 

Broken Horses

(album: In These Silent Days - 2021)


I wear my father's leather on the inside of my skin
I'm a tried and weathered woman, but I won't be tried again
Don't think that you can come for me without your Sunday best
You had better call your priest and hope the devil gets the rest
Before I do
Oh, and I will do

I have worn the jester's bells and I have banished with the fools
I have worshiped at the altar of the puppet master's rules
I have held my tongue too many scenes before the final act
With my children in the cheap seats and a zipper on my back
Thanks to you
No thanks to you

Tethered in wide open spaces
And fields that lead for miles
Right into the barrel of a gun
Mending up your fences with my
Horses running wild
Only broken horses know to run

I have ever so politely treaded softly for your grace
I have whispered through the tears and pleaded sweetly to your face
It is time to spit you out like lukewarm water from my mouth
I will always taste the apathy, but I won't pass it down
It dies with you
You

Tethered in wide open spaces
And fields that lead for miles
Right into the barrel of a gun
Mending up your fences with my
Horses running wild
Only broken horses know to run

I wear my father's leather on the inside of my skin
I'm a tried and weathered woman, but I won't be tried again
Don't think that you can come for me without your Sunday best
You had better call your priest and hope the devil gets the rest
Before I do
Oh, and I will do

Tethered in wide open spaces
And fields that lead for miles
Right into the barrel of a gun
Mending up your fences with my
Horses running wild
Only broken horses know to run

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?