other kinds run - the tower recordings lyrics
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one, two, three, four
blue jean turn to rust
tearin’ short straws
i don’t give ’em a bit of dawn
i was dealt the word “shallow”
an antique containment
when, see, the other kinds run
they’re like cigarettes smoked backwards
as generous as the inhaler
i’m gonna go on down to where there is no pain
gonna go on down to where there is no pain
gonna go on down to where there is no pain
i’m gonna go on down to where there is no pain
baby, don’t you see the other kinds run?
rouf, eerth, owt, eno
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