Murrow Turning Over in His Grave
All the sainted sinners
They pay handsomely
And eventually?
They make the weapons
And they run the prisons
And they sell the justice
Cause being guilty is
Just good business
And we'll be standing on
The borderline
Ain't no one there gonna
Stop it now
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
He's gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
He's gonna run wild
Half-closed eyes
And the country's deadly
Do you feel the ooze as your brain drains out
From your pneumatic drills and sharpening knives
Blood in the sky
Are you dead or alive?
All the restless people and the bitter green
Well it fakes this gold, makes the spirit mean
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
He's gonna turn wild
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Murrow turning over in his grave
Better watch out
Murrow turning over in his grave
He's gonna run wild
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Todos los pecadores santificados
Pagan generosamente
¿Y eventualmente?
Ellos fabrican las armas
Y dirigen las prisiones
Y venden la justicia
Porque ser culpable es
Buen negocio
Y estaremos parados en
La línea divisoria
No hay nadie que
Lo detenga ahora
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Mejor cuidado
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Va a volverse salvaje
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Mejor cuidado
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Va a correr desenfrenado
Ojos entreabiertos
Y el país es mortal
¿Sientes el goteo mientras tu cerebro se vacía
De tus taladros neumáticos y cuchillos afilados
Sangre en el cielo
¿Estás muerto o vivo?
Toda la gente inquieta y el verde amargo
Bueno, finge este oro, hace que el espíritu sea mezquino
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Mejor cuidado
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Va a volverse salvaje
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Mejor cuidado
Murrow revolcándose en su tumba
Va a correr desenfrenado
Escrita por: Lindsey Buckingham