Saturday, May 16, 2015

2.1471 : 5/13/09 : Quiver (The Golden Age: 17/100)

I’m afraid to count what I’ve got left in my quiver
Prayed to the god of war but he said cry me a river
Out of ammunition then I’ll have to retreat
Nowhere to go back to if I take to my feet
Premonition and it makes me shiver
reaching back my hand to find an empty quiver
can’t ride no horse can’t really shoot no bow
Why it’s a metaphor, I know, I know
coming up empty oh boy kid you’re deep
you’d think I could come up with this trash in my sleep
Premonition and it makes me shiver
reaching back my hand to find an empty quiver
Premonition and it makes me shiver
reaching back my hand to find an empty quiver
Premonition and it makes me shiver
reaching back my hand to find an empty quiver

what
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