| Sorry we’re open
|
| Come in we’re closed
|
| I’m warming the raclette oven
|
| I said
|
| Come in we’re closed
|
| It was great talking to you
|
| Having nothing to say
|
| But now that that’s been said
|
| Get the fuck away
|
| My guitar like a kalashnikov
|
| My bass-drum like a bazooka
|
| Pick up youre artillery
|
| In the myth of defeat
|
| And if i’m gonna raise my voice
|
| It’s my weapon of choice
|
| The end of entertaiment
|
| Is the beginning of war
|
| My guitar
|
| My guitar
|
| I’m cursing an ointment
|
| Hear me snorting a symphonie
|
| Every flatulence an opera
|
| Every drop of sweat an elegy
|
| Create something out of nothing
|
| I faking the highlights
|
| I could
|
| My fingerprints in mass production
|
| A public hair nailed to a pieve of wood
|
| My guitar like a kalashnikov
|
| My bass-drum like a bazooka
|
| Pick up youre artillery
|
| In the myth of defeat
|
| And if i’m gonna crack my voice
|
| It’s my weapon of choice
|
| The end of entertaiment
|
| Is the beginning of war
|
| My guitar
|
| My guitar
|
| I don’t knoe where i’m going
|
| Everbody follow me
|
| I don’t knoe where i’m going
|
| Everbody follow me
|
| I don’t knoe where i’m going
|
| Everbody follow me
|
| If i knew where i was going
|
| I wouldn’t want you to come with me
|
| My guitar like a kalashnikov
|
| My bass-drum like a bazooka
|
| Pick up youre artillery
|
| In the myth of defeat
|
| And if i’m gonna crack my voice
|
| It’s my weapon of choice
|
| The end of entertaiment
|
| Is the beginning of war
|
| My guitar
|
| My guitar |