Raising the Dead - Johnny Flynn

Your old man’s in the kitchen

He’s a smile short of laughing

And the radio’s a-beaming

From the stars that are coughing up

The change in his pockets

And the shrug of his shoulders

And the blood from his fingers

And the love that I hold for him

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

And those old songs are twitching

With the knees that are pitching

And the fair world’s a-grinning

And the old spinning

To the place where he lived

And the room that he died in

There’s a new song playing on the radio that night

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

He operates on a low frequency

To take down the pillars of our society

Walking out of sadness, walking out of grief

He’s walking out of badness and walking like a thief

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

I collaborate with spirit

I helped it find its way back to me

Where I’ve been with myself on my way

On my way to the old man in the kitchen on my way

To the broken-hearted people who all who say

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead

Oh oh, raising the dead, raising the dead

Raising the dead