Lyrics
Gave my love two thousand yesterdays
Nothing is wrong I am always a little late
Probably will probably won't
Get this disease cut out of my throat
All of a sudden you come my way baby believer
I won't be saved by morning after
Struggling my name slave turned to master
History moans
Mouth of our father
History moans
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Edge of my bed Benzedrine telephone
Struggling to speak sicker than the sickest dog
Falling faster than a liar's grin
We need to be saved from the shit we're in
I believe in you I have found the perfect way to bring me down
I won't be saved by all your yesterdays
Piss on my grave piss on the the underlay
History moans
Mouth of our father
History moans
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
It's the movement we're after
WRITERS
GAVIN ROSSDALE
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
See A Problem With Something?
Lyrics
Other
LyricIQ Analysis
Top Emotion
Anger
Sentiment
Theme
Coarse Language
