Portugal. The Man - 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
Just like these perverse and perversions

Hibernate while you're still young
You are getting older, so much older
So much older than you think, still
Not far but years away
Your hands will snake out in a serpent smile
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?
"I'll travel anywhere I like" he says
"I'll travel anywhere I please" he says
Black eyes breed gossip like
These perverts and perversions alike
Just like this perverts and perversions

Hibernate while you're still young
You are getting older, so much older
So much older than you think, still
Not far but years away
Your hands will snake out in a serpent smile
Crank the tap, itch, brimming with suspicions
The burrows are brimming with suspicions

Where have all the trumpets gone
That played us la-da da-da-da?

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

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

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

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

Written by:
John Baldwin Gourley

Publisher:
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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