Texty piesní Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Some Kind of Ghost

Tied to the crossroads, you lay

Sweet Lord I'm coming home to stay

Sworn your last turn you thrown

Sweet Lord I'm comin' home for good

Home, sweet Lord I'm comin' home

Home, when I gonna get to go

The sweetest of souls get their fill

If you telling me they're blessed, Lord

You're nothing but a chill

Pain, they say every name got a page

Sweet Lord, it's written on every face

Home, when we gonna get to go

Home, sweet Lord I'm comin' home

Don't feel like some kind of ghost

Don't feel like some kind of ghost

Don't feel like some kind of ghost

Don't feel like some kind of ghost