Ghost Range - Beck, Homelife

See me coming to town with my soul

Straight down out of the world with my fingers

Holding onto the devil I know

All my troubles will hang on your trigger

Take your eyes and your mind from the road

Shoot your mouth if you know where you’re aiming

Don’t forget to pick up what you sow

Talking trash to the garbage around you

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

See me kicking the door with my boots

Broke down out in a ditch of old rubbish

Snakes and bones in the back of your room

Handing out a confection of venom

Heaven’s drunk from the poison you use

Charm the wolves with the eyes of a gambler

Now I see it’s a comfort to you

Hammer my bones on the anvil of daylight

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

I won’t give up that ghost

It’s sick the way these tongues are twisted

The good in us is all we know

There’s too much left to taste that’s bitter

I won’t give up that ghost

It’s sick the way these tongues are twisted

The good in us is all we know

There’s too much left to taste that’s bitter

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na