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Credits

AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Touché Amoré
Touché Amoré
Künstler:in
Jeremy Bolm
Jeremy Bolm
Stimme und Gesang
Nick Steinhardt
Nick Steinhardt
Pedal-Steel-Gitarre
Clayton Stevens
Clayton Stevens
Akustische Gitarre
Elliot Babin
Elliot Babin
Schlagzeug
Tyler Kirby
Tyler Kirby
Bass
Andy Hull
Andy Hull
Stimme und Gesang
Jason Schimmel
Jason Schimmel
Klavier
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Jeremy Bolm
Jeremy Bolm
Komponist:in
Nick Steinhardt
Nick Steinhardt
Komponist:in
Clayton Stevens
Clayton Stevens
Komponist:in
Elliot Babin
Elliot Babin
Komponist:in
Tyler Kirby
Tyler Kirby
Komponist:in
Andy Hull
Andy Hull
Komponist:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Ross Robinson
Ross Robinson
Produzent:in
Steve Evetts
Steve Evetts
Mischtechniker:in
Mike Balboa
Mike Balboa
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Alan Douches
Alan Douches
Mastering-Ingenieur:in
Robert McDowell
Robert McDowell
Aufnahmeingenieur:in

Lyrics

We sway like brittle branches One gust and to earth we come I'm grinning because I know I'm grinning just because Taking orders never suited me Saying no just for the thrill But tonight we're moving slowly While the cavalry moves in for the kill Moves in for the kill Moves in for the kill I'm tired and I'm sore (sore, sore, sore, sore) I'm not so young anymore (more, more, more, more) Worn down, but I imagine (sore, sore, sore, sore) This uniform stays in fashion We've poured ourselves in these Sweet white dying dogs Some nights not kissing Some nights just because If we hear a crash We can only expect the worst But tonight we're moving fast While the party resumes the search Resumes the search Resumes the search I'm tired and I'm sore (sore, sore, sore, sore) I'm not so proud anymore (more, more, more, more) Worn down, but I've decided (sore, sore, sore, sore) It's open casket, you're all invited My head in your lap from the wandering blackout The touch of your hand, you're the last one to back out There's nothing to argue, there's only a title The worst's yet to come, well the worst's not invited I make separate fists while I swallowed the pride I am haunting an old roll of telephone wires It's not how it was but it's not getting lighter The weight is immaculate, the depth is inspired It's let in, eyes tired I hold waste, stop fires I want hope, faith higher I'm lost now, loss tires
Writer(s): John Andrew Hull, Clayton Henry Stevens, Paul Robert Elliot Babin, Tyler Paxton Kirby, Nicholas Ian Steinhardt, Jeremy Anthony Jennings Bolm Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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