The Rifle Lyrics - Singles - Alela Diane

I've been knockin' on that door in my sleep 

Fighting the fireplace glow 

Knockin' on that door in my sleep 

Fighting the fireplace glow 

To keep me away 

To keep me away from home 

Papa, get the rifle from its place above the French doors! 

They're comin' from the woods! 

Oh! They're comin' from the woods! 

And mama you're running too 

Oh! My mama, you're running too 

Brother, I'm so sorry that you watched the paintings burn 

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I've been holding onto the gold 

When letting go would free my hand 

And I've been tying your tongue in a knot 

Oh! I've been tying your tongue in a knot 

To wrap this death 

To wrap this death in a sheet 

Papa, get the rifle from its place above the French doors! 

They're comin' from the woods! 

Oh! They're comin' from the woods! 

And mama you're running too 

Oh! My mama, you're running too 

Brother, I'm so sorry that you watched the paintings burn 

Photos 

I can't hide the dirty paths down that carpet anymore 

There were too many heavy boots 

There were too many heavy boots 

There were too many big black boots 

And there were too many little brown shoes 

Marching through 

So I'm counting it to the sky 

Oh! I'm counting it to the sky 

And moving back to face the lack of home