| What if one day we just refused to play?
|
| With no one to hate, they’d be out of a job
|
| You’ve gone off script, you just can’t walk away
|
| Leave us naked, fleeced and racked with sobs
|
| Whoa
|
| We’re locked in a death grip and it’s taking its toll
|
| When our enemies are what make us whole
|
| Listen to me
|
| No more excuses, no more apathy
|
| This ain’t no archipelago, no remote atoll
|
| All my enemies, they just fall in love with me
|
| Keeping us distracted while the till gets robbed
|
| All our cries were cried
|
| Now there are no sides
|
| Try selling that one to an angry mob
|
| Whoa
|
| J. Edgar Hoover wore a white mink stole
|
| His enemies are what made him whole
|
| Oh, what made him whole
|
| (His enemies are what made him whole)
|
| Whoa
|
| A three-headed monster swallows Tokyo
|
| Her enemies are what make her whole
|
| (Her enemies are what make her whole)
|
| Whoa
|
| (Our enemies are what make us whole)
|
| We’re locked in a death grip and it’s taking its toll
|
| When our enemies are what make us whole
|
| (Our enemies are what make us whole)
|
| Whoa
|
| (Our enemies are what make us whole)
|
| No more excuses, no more apathy
|
| This ain’t no archipelago, no remote atoll
|
| (Our enemies are what make us whole)
|
| (Our enemies are what make us whole) |