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Lyrics of 'Blood on My Boots' by Eliza Carthy

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Blood on My Boots is a song by Eliza Carthy whose lyrics have countless searches, so we decided it deserves its place on this website, along with many other song lyrics that internet users want to know.

I was drinking champagne with Jerry Springer
I was young and dressed up to the nines
I looked on adoring the west end walls of mirrors at my face
At my fondest designs

And though my dears, it was five pounds of glass, don't you know
As the wise might suspect, as I stood laughing with the director
There was only one way this could go

There's blood on my boots, blood on my boots, blood on my boots
There's blood on my boots, blood on my boots, blood on my boots

So I'm home to my roots
There's blood on my boots
Oh, I'm home to my roots
There's blood on my boots

I took a rickshaw right after the opera
And I felt like the queen of the world
The rickshaw driver was twenty and Italian
And I gave him my plus one
And he went home for his beautiful girl

And oh my dears, it was five pounds for a shining crystal gong
Did I just drink too much?
Was there a waiter with a grudge, shooting fishes in a barrel, having fun?

There's blood on my face, blood on my face, blood on my face
There's blood on my face, blood on my face, blood on my face

There's blood all over the place
There's blood, there's blood, there's blood
Blood all over the place
There's blood on my face

The night started warm and so balmy
Oh, the stars, oh the wind in my hair
The tears with a hero, the capitol twilight
The lions in Trafalgar Square

And though my darlings, it was five pounds of glass, don't you know
Five pounds for poison in my glamorous glass
That quite put an end to my show

There's blood on my clothes, blood on my clothes, blood on my clothes
There's blood on my clothes, blood on my clothes, blood on my clothes

Oh, it came from my nose
There's blood, there's blood, there's blood
Oh, it came from my nose
There's blood on my clothes

There's an angel in Whitehall at night
Watched me kneel, watched me stumble with poise
And it blacks out your eyes and your face meets the ground
And if you fall alone in this city at night
Well they say you make no sound, no sound, no sound at all

There's blood on my top, blood on my top, blood on my top
Oh, there's blood on my top, blood on my top, blood on my top
I'm gonna go to the shop and buy me some plasters

And then I'm gonna set my big old hackney-arsed mates
On that little bastard, on that little bastard, on that little bastard
On that little... On that little

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Otras canciones de Eliza Carthy

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