Spitting from the bridges, like a bird perched on a branch,
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I'm wilting like a tree that will never let me breathe.
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Soul soldier with your gun held high, where does the crow fly,
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soul soldier with your gun held high, will you follow it home.
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For the road that we walk has more miles left to talk,
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stories on and on we go, into the great wide open.
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No it never came back to break me, the way it broke it down,
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spitting from the bridges, while the trees give a soft sigh to the ground.
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Soul sailor with your flag held high, where does the crow fly,
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soul sailor with your flag held high, will you follow it home.
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For the road that we walk has more miles left to talk,
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stories on and on we go, into the great wide open.
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For the road that we walk has more miles left to talk,
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stories on and on we go, into the great wide open, into the great wide open.
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The rush of the flood, sends the blood, to my head,
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the rush of the flood, sends the blood, to my head,
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Soul soldier with your gun held high, where does the crow fly
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soul soldier with your gun held high, will you follow it home.
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The rush of the flood, sends the blood, to my head,
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the rush of the flood, sends the blood, to my head.
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Climb out, climb out (woah), climb out, climb out (woah),
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Climb out, climb out (woah), over me.
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Climb out, climb out (woah), climb out, climb out (woah),
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Climb out, climb out (woah), over me.
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Into the great wide open.
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-----------------
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The Great Wide Open
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| Funeral For A Friend |
