The Cultural Heritage Choir - Best Of Rare Cult lyrics
[The Cultural Heritage Choir - Best Of Rare Cult lyrics]
" Down on Me "
The poet's head is dead
His words have been misread
And the cynic's lips are dry
His vulture tongue obsessed
You gotta love the earth don't burn my wings
Too close to the sun
What the hell am I supposed to do
When you're pushing hard on me
Who the hell am I supposed to be
When you're bleeding all over me
God knows I'm good so misunderstood
Coming to you i'm down on my own
No spirit unknown
That's why I'm supposed to believe in you
I love the earth don't burn my wings
Too close to the sun
What the hell am I supposed to do
When you're pushing hard on me
Who the hell am I supposed to be
When you're bleeding all over me
Said it before sayin' it again
Holy fools yea
What the hell am I supposed to do
When you're pushing hard on me
Who the hell am I supposed to be
When you're bleeding hard for me
What are you gonna do when the
Light gets in your eye
You're gonna find that there's life outside
Who am I supposed to be
When you're so hard, hard on me
Oh the poet's head is dead
His words have been misread
The cynic's lips are dry
His vulture tongue obsessed
And he wants to know that god knows I'm good
The poet's head is dead
His words have been misread
And the cynic's lips are dry
His vulture tongue obsessed
You gotta love the earth don't burn my wings
Too close to the sun
What the hell am I supposed to do
When you're pushing hard on me
Who the hell am I supposed to be
When you're bleeding all over me
God knows I'm good so misunderstood
Coming to you i'm down on my own
No spirit unknown
That's why I'm supposed to believe in you
I love the earth don't burn my wings
Too close to the sun
What the hell am I supposed to do
When you're pushing hard on me
Who the hell am I supposed to be
When you're bleeding all over me
Said it before sayin' it again
Holy fools yea
What the hell am I supposed to do
When you're pushing hard on me
Who the hell am I supposed to be
When you're bleeding hard for me
What are you gonna do when the
Light gets in your eye
You're gonna find that there's life outside
Who am I supposed to be
When you're so hard, hard on me
Oh the poet's head is dead
His words have been misread
The cynic's lips are dry
His vulture tongue obsessed
And he wants to know that god knows I'm good