Junior Brother - Castlebridge lyrics
[Junior Brother - Castlebridge lyrics]
Have you ever been to Castlebridge
Have you ever drank dry water
Saturday night Sunday morning
Lit like a tabernacle dressed like an altar
Sewing things even though they're seperated
Writing songs even though I fucking hate it
And one more thing before the chorus
One of these days I will pay for this
Packet of fags inside my pocket
Out my door like a chain and sprocket
Run like a treddle in a windmill
That's where I got the
Inspiration for this song
Vicar he signals to the people
Here's the church now where's the steeple
A buckled up knight on his horseback flying
Crying at the sound of his animal dying
Sex is a metaphor for religion
Cows in this town fly with the pigeons
Horse tracks crack at a turn
By seven, eight o' clock, i'm in heaven
Here's the gypsy with a shoe
Whackin' a horse and a
Squire lad hittin' it
Watch them laugh and pick my feet
Grab my coat walk down the street
Packet of fags inside my pocket
Out my door like a chain and sprocket
Run like a treddle in a windmill
(That's where he got the
Inspiration for his song)
Vicar he signals to the people
Here's the church now where's the steeple
A buckled up night on his horseback flying
Crying at the sound of his animal dying
Change the weather and pick a view
Building boats from broken pews
West from where their gardens grew
Every grave my neighbour knew
Lost another neighbour too, the tinker's
Feet from labour grew
Would you like to see his shoe? No thank you
Have you ever drank dry water
Saturday night Sunday morning
Lit like a tabernacle dressed like an altar
Sewing things even though they're seperated
Writing songs even though I fucking hate it
And one more thing before the chorus
One of these days I will pay for this
Packet of fags inside my pocket
Out my door like a chain and sprocket
Run like a treddle in a windmill
That's where I got the
Inspiration for this song
Vicar he signals to the people
Here's the church now where's the steeple
A buckled up knight on his horseback flying
Crying at the sound of his animal dying
Sex is a metaphor for religion
Cows in this town fly with the pigeons
Horse tracks crack at a turn
By seven, eight o' clock, i'm in heaven
Here's the gypsy with a shoe
Whackin' a horse and a
Squire lad hittin' it
Watch them laugh and pick my feet
Grab my coat walk down the street
Packet of fags inside my pocket
Out my door like a chain and sprocket
Run like a treddle in a windmill
(That's where he got the
Inspiration for his song)
Vicar he signals to the people
Here's the church now where's the steeple
A buckled up night on his horseback flying
Crying at the sound of his animal dying
Change the weather and pick a view
Building boats from broken pews
West from where their gardens grew
Every grave my neighbour knew
Lost another neighbour too, the tinker's
Feet from labour grew
Would you like to see his shoe? No thank you