A cripple hobbles on his crutch
A woman turns to stare
She walks into a tiny church
And kneels to say a prayer
An author writes his final words
How life's become a bore
And holds within his shaking hands
A snub-nosed 44
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
The lovers locked in hot embrace
Can't see beyond the bed
A housewife tuned into the tube
Sees only straight ahead
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
Turn their heads
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
For when the crutch becomes too much
We see ourselves instead
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
The Corbomites - Crutch Lyrics
The Corbomites - Crutch Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
A cripple hobbles on his crutch
A woman turns to stare
She walks into a tiny church
And kneels to say a prayer
An author writes his final words
How life's become a bore
And holds within his shaking hands
A snub-nosed 44
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
The lovers locked in hot embrace
Can't see beyond the bed
A housewife tuned into the tube
Sees only straight ahead
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
Turn their heads
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
For when the crutch becomes too much
We see ourselves instead
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
A woman turns to stare
She walks into a tiny church
And kneels to say a prayer
An author writes his final words
How life's become a bore
And holds within his shaking hands
A snub-nosed 44
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
The lovers locked in hot embrace
Can't see beyond the bed
A housewife tuned into the tube
Sees only straight ahead
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
Turn their heads
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
For when the crutch becomes too much
We see ourselves instead
The Dead abound in every town
But people turn their heads
Writer: James Eckley, Walter Donovan
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid