A party that goes on and on turns into a dying yawn and hits the wall for proof
written by Greg dale
lyrics
We come from the Americas, the shitty holes the coastal towns
U.S.A. born and bred
We have the one we have the two but that Aint our point of view
This Aint a numbers game
A horse a horse of course of course but the horse that stays the course
wear the finest shoes
Remorse remorse let’s up our dose we don;t want to be verbose
But we like nice shoes too
Aint Nothing to this
He’s a candy coated hologram mister flippy bird don’t give a damn
wearing his satin shoes
He pied pied pipes along we sing sing sing his song
and eat his magic root
When the party starts to fade the shinning stars they have it made
Karma chips a tooth
The party that goes on and on turns into a dying yawn
And hits the wall for proof
Aint nothing to this
Aint nothing to this
credits
from Winter's Ghost ( Album 2017 ),
released June 9, 2017
Greg Dale Guitar vocals , percussions
J.C. O' Donnell Guitars
Pete Schmitt Double bass
O Drums
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