Bush - History - Sözleri

Gave my love 2 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 my father

Mouth of my father



Edge of my bed, Benzedrine telephone

Struggling to speak, I'm sicker than the sickest dog

Falling faster, 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



And I won't be saved by all your yesterdays

So piss on my grave, piss on the underlay



History moans

Mouth of our father

History moans

Mouth of our father

Mouth of our father

Mouth of our father

Mouth of my father

Mouth of my father

Mouth of my father



History moans

History moans

History moans

History moans

Mouth of our father

Mouth of our father

Mouth of our father

© MAD DOG WINSTON MUSIC, LTD;















		
			



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