Letra da Música: History - Bush

Gave my love to two thousand yesterdays
Nothing is wrong i am always a little late
Probably will
Probably won't
Get this disease cut out my throat
All of a sudden
You come my way
Baby believer

I won't be saved
By morning after
Struggling my name
Slave turned to master

History moans
Mouth of our father
History moans
Mouth of my father
Mouth of my father

Edge of my bed
Benzedrine telephone
Struggling to speak i am sicker than sickest dog
Falling faster than a liar's grin
We need to be saved from the shit we're in
I believe in you i have found
The perfect way to bring me down

I won't be saved
By all your yesterdays
Piss on my grave
Piss on the underlay

History moans
Mouth of our father
History moans
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
It's the movement we're after
Mouth of my father
It's the movement we're after
Mouth of my father

History moans
It's the movement we're after
History moans
It's the movement we're after
History moans
It's the movement we're after

History moans
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father