| This is a message for the angels: This is the demons at your door
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| And we’re all waiting for an answer. |
| You can bet we won’t be ignored
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| Why did you let this bullshit happen? |
| Where did we fuck up along the line?
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| Won’t you tell us? |
| Probably not, you have no spine
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| You can bet we’ll shake these gates until they fall,
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| And you can bet we’ll cut your heads off one and all
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| Cause you cut our party short now and it’s time to prove something to you:
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| Us sinners don’t take kindly to last call
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| This is a message for the angels: You’ve got a breach of security
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| All the snarling at your gates is from the people you set free
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| With your insistence that you leave us alone to fend for ourselves
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| And now it’s your turn to take your weapons off your shelves
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| Your brainless god should take some time, climb off his throne,
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| And give us all an explanation of his own
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| We want our whiskey bottles back now, our guitars and amplifiers,
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| Because this night ain’t over until we say it’s done |