Biografia:
Tilly and the Wall é uma banda indie/pop surgida de Nebraska, Omaha. A origem do nome veio de um livro infantil intitulado "Tillie and the Wall" (Tillie e a parede), escrito por Leo Lionni.
Sua particularidade, além de suas músicas bem diferenciadas, é que no lugar de uma bateirista, possuem uma sapateadora, produzindo uma batida peculiar. Música de muito bom gosto, com diferenciados artistas.
Read more on Last.fm
Outras músicas:
- Freest Man
- Ice Storm Big Gust And You
- Let It Rain
- Lost Girls
- Rainbows In The Dark
- Shake Shake
- Bad Education
- Beat Control
- Bessa
- Blood Flower
- Brave Day
- Coughing Colors
- Dust Me Off
- Fell Down The Stairs
- I Always Knew
- Love Song
- Night Of The Living Dead
- Nights Of The Living Dead
- Perfect Fit
- Pot Kettle Black
- Reckless
- Shake It Out
- Sing Songs Along
- Static Expressions
- Tall Tall Grass
- The Freest Man
- You And I Misbehaving
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
INTRO: Dm [I think]
C
Well the high school kids they're all fucked up.
A
Touching each other, oh my god.
C
Yeah and forty ounces was never enough.
A
We want to pass out in your yard, we want to pass out.
C
Dressing in drag your best friend's clothes,
A
while boys kissed boys in hotel rooms.
C
Oh and just when we thought we were no longer lost
A G
they kicked us out into the dirty streets of Atlanta.
C
So it's Friday night down on North Avenue,
A
where the gas station parking lot prostitutes
C
tried to fix their hair in our rearview mirrors.
A
You know we're just trying to get to the club and shake our asses.
C
A caravan of kids, some big old mess,
A
on an old wooden dock, oh we're bored to death.
C
We've got a bottle of wine, a fresh pack of smokes.
A
We're going to end up screaming about some midnight garage sale.
C G A
God, put down your gun can't you see we're dead?
C G A
God, put down your hand we're not listening.
G:----------------9—7-5-4
D:--0-3-7-9-7-5----------
The microphone cut off so we're screaming at the top of our lungs.
C
We are born so fresh, a golden prize,
A
until you scrape that knee and quickly realize
C
that you're lost in a fog on your way to death.
A
Oh a thick black line, a thick black line.
C
So you better speak up, better raise that voice.
A
Come on, scream loud all you girls and boys.
C
Let's get wild, wild, wild. Let's rejoice.
A G
C'mon, c'mon. I want to hear that fucking noise.
C A
Oh the push and pull of everything, oh this nightmare of electricity.
C
We are the living dead, yeah the living dead.
A
That's the way it is. That's the way it's always been.
C
Oh that snake slithered past my house today.
A
Oh I heard he caught you on a dark highway.
C
No the clouds didn't part they just grew into a storm.
A
I can still hear the sound of the rolling thunder.
C G A
God, put down your gun can't you see we're dead?
C G A
God put down your hand we're not listening.
C G A
God, put down your gun can't you see we're dead?
C G A
I said, God put down your hand we're not listening. Oh we never were.
C
I want to fuck it up.
A [repeat until you’re happy]
I want to fuck it up.
C
I feel so alive.
A [repeat until you’re alive]
I feel so alive.
C
And I feel.
C
Well the high school kids they're all fucked up.
A
Touching each other, oh my god.
C
Yeah and forty ounces was never enough.
A
We want to pass out in your yard, we want to pass out.
C
Dressing in drag your best friend's clothes,
A
while boys kissed boys in hotel rooms.
C
Oh and just when we thought we were no longer lost
A G
they kicked us out into the dirty streets of Atlanta.
C
So it's Friday night down on North Avenue,
A
where the gas station parking lot prostitutes
C
tried to fix their hair in our rearview mirrors.
A
You know we're just trying to get to the club and shake our asses.
C
A caravan of kids, some big old mess,
A
on an old wooden dock, oh we're bored to death.
C
We've got a bottle of wine, a fresh pack of smokes.
A
We're going to end up screaming about some midnight garage sale.
C G A
God, put down your gun can't you see we're dead?
C G A
God, put down your hand we're not listening.
G:----------------9—7-5-4
D:--0-3-7-9-7-5----------
The microphone cut off so we're screaming at the top of our lungs.
C
We are born so fresh, a golden prize,
A
until you scrape that knee and quickly realize
C
that you're lost in a fog on your way to death.
A
Oh a thick black line, a thick black line.
C
So you better speak up, better raise that voice.
A
Come on, scream loud all you girls and boys.
C
Let's get wild, wild, wild. Let's rejoice.
A G
C'mon, c'mon. I want to hear that fucking noise.
C A
Oh the push and pull of everything, oh this nightmare of electricity.
C
We are the living dead, yeah the living dead.
A
That's the way it is. That's the way it's always been.
C
Oh that snake slithered past my house today.
A
Oh I heard he caught you on a dark highway.
C
No the clouds didn't part they just grew into a storm.
A
I can still hear the sound of the rolling thunder.
C G A
God, put down your gun can't you see we're dead?
C G A
God put down your hand we're not listening.
C G A
God, put down your gun can't you see we're dead?
C G A
I said, God put down your hand we're not listening. Oh we never were.
C
I want to fuck it up.
A [repeat until you’re happy]
I want to fuck it up.
C
I feel so alive.
A [repeat until you’re alive]
I feel so alive.
C
And I feel.
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