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Losing - Drunk Hands



     
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Losing Lyrics


I can't believe what she said
I can't believe what he did
Oh, don't they know it's wrong
Don't they know it's wrong
Well maybe there's something I missed
But how could they treat me like this
It's wearing out my heart
The way they disregard
This is love or this is hate...
We all have a choice to make
Oh, Father wont You forgive them
They don't know what they've been doin' (oh no)
Oh Father, give me grace to forgive them
Cause I feel like the one losin'
Well it's only the dead that can live
But still I wrestle with this
To lose the pain that's mine
Seventy times seven times

Cause Lord it doesn't feel right
For me to turn a blind eye
Though I guess it's not that much
When I think of what You've done.
This is love or this is hate...
We gotta a choice to make
Oh Father won't You forgive them
They don't know what they've been doin' (oh no)
Oh Father, give me grace to forgive them
Cause I feel like the one losin'
Why do we think that our hate's gonna break a hard heart
We're rippin arms over wars that don't need to be fought
Cause pride wont let us lay our weapons on the ground
We build our bridges up but it's just to burn them down
We think our pain is own apologies and get them to stop
Well truth be told it doesn't matter if their sorry or not
Cause freedom comes when we surrender to the sound
Of Your mercy and Your grace, Father, send Your angels down
Oh Father wont you forgive them
They don't know what they've been doin'
Oh Father, give me grace to forgive them
Cause I feel like the one losin'
I feel like I've been losing
Oh Father wont you forgive them
They don't know what they've been doin'
Oh Father, give me grace to forgive them
Cause I feel like the one losin'
I feel like I've been losing
Oh Father, give me grace to forgive them
Cause I feel like the one losin'

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"For most of its running time, Blind sounds like it’s playing at the wrong speed or stuck in a lock groove. It’s laden with an oppressive, ominous atmosphere that never clicks into release – it never gratifies with the kind of Colosseum-sized climaxes of post-rockers Explosions in the Sky or Mogwai. Instead it lingers tensely – like a kind of perpetual Birthday Party intro, as if Nick Cave were about to step out from behind a curtain, pink nail polish splattered on his eyelids and bat shit ringed around his nipples.

Read more about Drunk Hands on Last.fm.


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Drunk Hands