The Middle East - Tsietsi Lyrkit'te

Lyrkit

horoz

1

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The Middle East

Tsietsi

Tsietsi

The trees are burnt
The grass is brown
The sky turns red
When the sun goes down

For all the tears
In God's green earth
We haven't cracked
In this old town

'cause we're holding on to youth
And we're stubborn to the tooth

The smell of dread
And burning heads
Is a sure sign
That you're in town
And we're holding on to youth
And we're stubborn with the truth

Here on the shores of the sea comes the end
Here on the floor on our knees comes the end
Here on the shoulders of these comes the end
Here when you replace me comes the end
Comes the end

Here on the shores of the sea comes the end
Here on the floor on our knees comes the end
Here on the shoulders of these comes the end
Here when you replace me comes the end
Comes the end
Comes the end

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