| Self-pollution the game I play
|
| Fight all night and a rampage every day
|
| I’m a night fighter striking from a hidden rebel base
|
| Barely holding back the skull I keep behind my face
|
| You can’t make me live the lie
|
| Cool and collected in a suit and tie
|
| Beneath the newsprint, the true headline
|
| Naked ragers with their hammers high
|
| We don’t come here to be nice
|
| We want an anurysm every Friday night
|
| War! |
| War! |
| Wage th war!
|
| Smash and grab what you desire
|
| Out of your mind, into the fire
|
| We’re going haywire
|
| Preposterous and of unsound mind
|
| I laugh out loud at the words I have underlined
|
| Scawling manifestos just for you dear friend
|
| A grim prediction of the rotten end
|
| You can watch me do ghost hands
|
| Extend my eyebrows from the tip to the end
|
| In my sandwich board I point to the sky
|
| My premonition that the end is nigh
|
| Try to be good but what’s the use
|
| Everybody wants a good excuse
|
| Play their game and still you fail
|
| Running hot and off the rails |