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Versuri Robert Pollard - Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd

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Videoclipuri Robert Pollard Flings of the Waistcoat Crowd
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Great days are becoming

A matchlight liquor establishment

Where the factory soaks its scabs

It hangs there like insectrocutioner

Over the big river

Scum of us rinsed by a hard rain

The tar, the teeth & the gear

Yet no trail

All around the camp

And that is our game

To brag and complain

To guess who goes next

To tally the scars

Learn every weakness