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Thomas Loughney

Murder of Crows

11 views 1 week ago
New song. Been a while. The guitar solos aren't quite how I wanted them, but it's what I could get with the equipment I have. Hope you like.

It's par for the course for you to feel no remorse
While you're sitting way up on your high horse
You're a smooth little shit, such a cool hypocrite
Must pay to be charming when really you're sick
And the head on your shoulders is a huge money pit
Stuffed full with thick honey and all kinds of mint

You're a rotten black stench, makes my jaws lock and clench
Smells like hundreds of dead in a war-mangled trench
I don't have to fetch far to guess your grim repertoire
It's no surprise the kind of person you are
You like twisting the knife cos you love a good scar
It's your signature scrawled in the people you harm

And I've heard all you have to say
The words you spin on that turnstile tongue
And I can't stand the record you play

But one day I'll find all the holes where you hide
And there'll be no more running when I reach down inside
Cos I'll ruin your body, I'll fuck up your pride
You'll wish you never knew me, you'll wish that you'd died

Gonna hurt you

And I've heard all you have to say
The words you spin on that turnstile tongue
And I can't stand the record you play

Now that you've been, now that you know
Now that you've gone to the side of the road
Where nobody cares, and no one grows old
You're hanging around with that murder of crows
Read more
New song. Been a while. The guitar solos aren't quite how I wanted them, but it's what I could get with the equipment I have. Hope you like.

It's par for the course for you to feel no remorse
While you're sitting way up on your high horse
You're a smooth little shit, such a cool hypocrite
Must pay to be charming when really you're sick
And the head on your shoulders is a huge money pit
Stuffed full with thick honey and all kinds of mint

You're a rotten black stench, makes my jaws lock and clench
Smells like hundreds of dead in a war-mangled trench
I don't have to fetch far to guess your grim repertoire
It's no surprise the kind of person you are
You like twisting the knife cos you love a good scar
It's your signature scrawled in the people you harm

And I've heard all you have to say
The words you spin on that turnstile tongue
And I can't stand the record you play

But one day I'll find all the holes where you hide
And there'll be no more running when I reach down inside
Cos I'll ruin your body, I'll fuck up your pride
You'll wish you never knew me, you'll wish that you'd died

Gonna hurt you

And I've heard all you have to say
The words you spin on that turnstile tongue
And I can't stand the record you play

Now that you've been, now that you know
Now that you've gone to the side of the road
Where nobody cares, and no one grows old
You're hanging around with that murder of crows Show less
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