David Glen Eisley – Sweet Victory lyrics

David Glen Eisley – Sweet Victory lyrics

The winner takes all
It's the thrill of one more kill
The last one to fall
Will never sacrifice their will

Don't ever look back on the world closing in
Be on the attack with your wings on the wind
Oh, the games will begin

And it's sweet, sweet, sweet victory... Yeah
It's ours for the taking
It's ours for the fight
Sweet, sweet, sweet victory... Yeah
And the one who's last to fall
The winner takes all

You don't win no silver
You only lose the gold
You push with a fever
For your time keeps tolling on

Against all the odds, against all your pain
Your back's on the wall with no one to blame
Wild hearts won't be tamed

And it's sweet, sweet, sweet victory... Yeah
It's ours for the taking
It's ours for the fight
Sweet, sweet, sweet victory... Yeah
And the one who's last to fall
The winner takes all

(Guitar solo)

And the one who's last to fall

Sweet, sweet, sweet victory... Yeah
It's ours for the taking
It's ours for the fight
Sweet, sweet, sweet victory... Yeah
And the one who's last to fall
The winner takes all

Lyrics taken from /lyrics/d/david_glen_eisley/sweet_victory.html

Submitted by She_Stole_My_Heart

Corrected by Chris-the-Pilot

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Sweet Victory meanings

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Unregistered 2012-06-23 03:25:20

Far ago in the 19th or 20th century, there was an annual day in which citizens of moscow would reluctantly pile all of there house hold pets into the middle of the street and proceed to throw potato peelers at them in the slight chance that they would snag. If this did happen, the thrower would be blessed with the prize of having his/her pet returned to them. If not, unfortunately, the pets would be bagged up and turned into icelollies. Hubert pepsi was an average joe, which is why his name wasn't actually hubert, it was joe. He saw the error in the folk's ways and sought out to bring an end to the wicknedness of their actions. He rallied up a team of orphans to aid him in his quest, as they had nothing to lose and nobody would miss them if they were to die. Armed only with the razor sharp edges of grainy photographs of the parents they'll never know, and their contagious whooping coughs, joe unleashed his wrath upon the citezens of somewhere in moscow. T'was a ferocious battle, but the children fought valiently. They won, only with the insignificant loss of a few orphans and a lot of blood and childhoods. They afterwards celbrated with red icelollies, quite forgetting their initial aim of stooping the slaughter of animals.

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