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Listen to Wild Like Children by Tilly and the Wall
ALBUMWild Like ChildrenTilly and the Wall

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tilly and the Wall
Tilly and the Wall
Performer
Derek Pressnall
Derek Pressnall
Guitar
Jamie Pressnall
Jamie Pressnall
Vocals
Nick White
Nick White
Keyboards
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Derek Pressnall
Derek Pressnall
Composer
Jamie Williams
Jamie Williams
Composer
Kianna Alarid
Kianna Alarid
Composer
Neely Jenkins
Neely Jenkins
Composer
Nick White
Nick White
Songwriter

Lyrics

Well the high school kids are all fucked up Touching each other, oh my god Yeah 40 ounces is never enough We wanna pass out in your yard, we wanna pass out Dressing in drag your best friend's clothes While boys kiss boys in motel rooms Well just when we thought we were no longer lost They kicked us out into the dirty streets of atlanta So its friday night down on north avenue Where the gas station parking lot prostitutes Try to fix their hair in the rear-view mirrors You know we're just trying to get to the club And shake our asses A caravan of kids, a big old mess On the old wooden dock, yeah we're bored to death Got a bottle of wine and a fresh pack of smokes We're gonna end up screaming about some midnight garage sale So god, put down your gun can't you see we're dead? God, put down your hand i'm not listening But the microphone cut off, so we're screaming at the top of our lungs You were born so fresh, a golden prize Until you screamed at me and quickly realized That you're lost in a fog on the way to death Oh, a big black line, a thick black line So you better speak up and raise that voice Come on, scream out all you girls and boys Let's get wild! wild! wild! its a choice Come on, come on I wanna hear that fucking noise! Oh, the push and pull of everything Oh, this nightmare of electricity We are the living dead, yeah, the living dead That's the way it is, that's the way its always been Oh, the snakes slid past my house today Oh, i heard he caught you on a dark highway Oh, the cracks in the board they just cooled into a storm But i could still hear the sound of the rolling thunder Thunder! God, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead God, put down your hand we're not listening God, put down your gun, can't you see we're dead I said, god put down your hand we're not listening (Oh we never do) I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up I wanna fuck it up And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel so alive And i feel
Writer(s): Nicholas White, Derek Pressnall, Kianna Alarid, Jamie Williams, Neely Jenkins Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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