Portugal. The Man Lyrics

13. Guns. Guns...Guns

Where have all the people gone 
Whose lives are no longer of use to them 
But this system bites habit forming 
But this single file is so contagious 
But black eyes breed gossip 
Like these perverse and perversions alike 

Hibernate while you're still young 
But you are getting older 
So much older 
So much older than you think 

Crank the tap. 
Itch. 
Brimming with suspicions 
The burrows are brimming with suspicions 

Where have all the people gone 
Whose guns are gold cold son of a bitch 
He's says, "I'll travel anywhere I like 
I'll travel anywhere I please." 

The priest's on the boat 
And hell is on its way

If you found error please correct these lyrics

If text is damaged you may return it to the last approved version