Sons of Our Fathers Songtext

von Milow

Saturday nights on the town
Cigarette stubs on the ground
Wherever we're going, there's no way of knowing
Sometimes it's good to be wrong

And Saturday nights on the bed
We don't want the feeling to end
We all want to run, where the underdogs run
And we all sing along, sing along
I came home a little drunk last night
Tired of being young, tired of being young
I came home a little drunk last night
The things we could have done, the things we should have done
But we don't

And playing our records, wondering why
We're sons of our fathers, kids of our time
I came home a little drunk last night

And let's flush our guts down the drain
These Saturday nights never change
Let's raise our glass, to the underdogs, oh yeah
And all sing along, sing along

I came home a little drunk last night
Tired of being young, tired of being young
I came home a little drunk last night
The things we could have done, the things we should have done
But we don't

And playing our records, wondering why
We're sons of our fathers, kids of our time
I came home a little drunk last night

And, oh, oh, oh
Kids of our time
And, oh, oh, oh
The kids of our time

And, oh, oh, oh
The kids of our time
And, oh, oh, oh

I came home a little drunk last night
Tired of being young, tired of being young
I came home a little drunk last night
The things we could have done, the things we should have done
But we don't

And playing our records, wondering why
We're sons of our fathers, kids of our time

Playing our records
Wondering why
We're sons of our fathers
We're kids of our time

I came home a little drunk last night
Last night