House of the Rising Sun (feat. Tuka) [Tuka Version]

You called me today

You told me you were gonna die

(Father, father, father)

What was I gonna say?

Sorry, I don't wanna lie

(My father, father, father)

You remind me of this old folk song

That got passed around

You used to sing it

I bet the songs that you sang incited output

Didn't just pay for your dinner

Party like an animal

It was a party with the animals

Sink a lot of liquor

Kiss a lot of women

How many could you pick up?

My mother is sick

Sittin' pretty in the middle of a letter

Mom said you're the reason I started

One day she got sick again and hit her

You could have had it all

Instead, she had enough

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

And it's been the ruin of many a poor soul

And Lord, my father's one

With me and my sister

We had to leave behind mister

My mother was a high-plains drifter

She said I could ride with her

We started again as a party of three

With our heart on our sleeves

She asked for redemption, in need of a friend

He was charming, I guess, but history repeats

Pardon the cliché

It was hard to believe

I can't pretend like you

He was no father to me

Motherfucker was an animal

Was a party with the animals

Strum a guitar

In our House of the Rising Sun

You beat my mother

In our Madhouse of the Rising Sun

Drunk on Monday

Was his father's son

In the back room singin'

This is the song he sung

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the Rising Sun

And it's been the ruin of many a poor soul

And Lord, my father's one

We been talkin' 'bout how to present me repertoire

For quite a while

For years

Kinda think, now I should do it

Tuck it away, but it's a little take the piss

On a twelve-string guitar, strung six strings so I had this huge guitar

Really big guitar

With a big, lotta noise and, and the House of the Rising Sun

They had enough drunks around

You understand that?

We had this bloke who wrote it and the way that he wrote it

All drunks and everyone singing House of the Rising Sun

And I'd be singin' away and carrying on, and throw money in the box