The Singer - The Afghan Whigs

Rollin'
When I get it on
Get it on
Get it on
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah
Yeah, yeah

I sing a song
A song I wrote for me
About the time
I went to New Orleans

I said goodbye
And leaved some bullshit father's hive
Poor old soul can't take no more
I meet you in the bar

I can't go on
Not,no more
Gotta find a place
That I can rest my bones
I can't go on
Know I know I won't belong
Till I find a place
To sing me a song,no more
To sing me a song,no more
No more, no more

If you're looking to get go
In New Orleans it won't take too long
To find a place
That outer hands go wrong
Yeah, you're right but now you're wrong
It's the singing not the song
Kiss and tell
Wish me well
I'll see you when you get to hell
C'mon, c'mon

Can't go on
I Gotta find a place
That I can rest my bones
I can't go on
Though I Know I won't belong
Till I find a place
To sing me a song,no more
To sing me a song,no more
No more
No more
No more

Can you help me get there?
Can you help me please?
Help me, sugar
I'm down on my
Knees!

Can you help me get there?
Can you help me get there?
Can you help me please?
Can you help me please?
Can you help me please?
To hide in the wood

Help motherfucker get his way to you
Help motherfucker get his way to you
Help motherfucker get his way to you
Get his way to you
To get his way
To get his way
Uh