Carpet Rides

The son woke up before the sun rose
And he felt like a whole man
Until they broke the door
And pressed him to the floor
And told him time and time again
You are under arrest, now it's getting rough
We'd love to turn you off
A gun on his forehead
The hands tied on his back

He left the desert on a backseat
With the question what went wrong
All the carpet rides drifted out of mind
One last look upon his home
You are under arrest, now it's getting rough
We'd love to turn you off
A gun on his forehead
The hands tied on his back

So he found himself in prison
He felt like Jesus on a cross
All the carpet rides
All the carpet rides
Surely meant to be a loss
You are under arrest, now it's getting rough
We'd love to turn you off



Credits
Writer(s): The Cheeky Monkeys
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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