Paroles de la chanson A Trip Out par British Sea Power
Auteurs: Reggie Noble,Wood,Scott Wilkinson
Editeurs: Sony Atv Music Publishing France,Sony Atv Music Publishing (Uk) Limited
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Paroles de la chanson A Trip Out par British Sea Power
Build us a vehicle
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
We're all going on a trip out
We're all going on a trip out
We're all getting, all getting out
Out with the daggers
Off with the gloves
There is so much
That you can loath
And I can't stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
It doesn't come much bigger than this
You see a point and you make a wish
Everything tragic, take it away
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
We're all going on a trip out
We're all going on a trip out
We're all getting, all getting out
Out with the daggers
Off with the gloves
There is so much
That you can loath
And I can't stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
It doesn't come much bigger than this
You see a point and you make a wish
Everything tragic, take it away
One fine day before the apocalypse
And I know it's not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
Build us a vehicle
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
Lonely are the brave
There is a chance
Of happiness
Yeah, but it is over so fast
And I can't stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
And I know it's not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
Build us a vehicle
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
Lonely are the brave
There is a chance
Of happiness
Yeah, but it is over so fast
And I can't stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
No la dee da, no picnickers
Just party, party in a tweety land
How long, how long, how long?
One fine day before the apocalypse
And I know it's not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
Just party, party in a tweety land
How long, how long, how long?
One fine day before the apocalypse
And I know it's not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
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