A Trip Out Songtext
von Sea Power
A Trip Out Songtext
Build us a vehicle
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
We′re all going on a trip out
We're all going on a trip out
We′re all getting, all getting out
Out with the daggers
Off with the gloves
There is so much
That you can loath
And I can't stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
It doesn′t come much bigger than this
You see a point and you make a wish
Everything tragic, take it away
One fine day before the apocalypse
And I know it′s not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
Build us a vehicle
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
Lonely are the brave
There is a chance
Of happiness
Yeah, but it is over so fast
And I can′t stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
No la dee da, no picnickers
Just party, party in a tweety land
How long, how long, how long?
One fine day before the apocalypse
And I know it′s not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
We′re all going on a trip out
We're all going on a trip out
We′re all getting, all getting out
Out with the daggers
Off with the gloves
There is so much
That you can loath
And I can't stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
It doesn′t come much bigger than this
You see a point and you make a wish
Everything tragic, take it away
One fine day before the apocalypse
And I know it′s not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
Build us a vehicle
Set us a course
Pick up your sickle
Get on board
Lonely are the brave
There is a chance
Of happiness
Yeah, but it is over so fast
And I can′t stop thinking about it
And I can't stop working it out
No la dee da, no picnickers
Just party, party in a tweety land
How long, how long, how long?
One fine day before the apocalypse
And I know it′s not impossible
From a hill top, worn out short grass
I don't know how long it can last
Up then toward the see saw
Up then toward the gibberish
Up then toward being a bore
Up then toward the apocalypse
Writer(s): Neil Wilkinson, Martin Noble, Matthew Wood, Jan Wilkinson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com