| Faithless on the skids hung out to dry oh seen better days
|
| With the sunlight fading like a tabloid and I I have found
|
| All those double-barreled freedom fighters are in for themselves
|
| And a call to arms has never been about anything else
|
| Fire one more round
|
| But hate is not a lone assailant
|
| Hear the drummers pound
|
| Listen to the homespun violent sound
|
| Hatred on the prowl underneath an oh new guise garb and gown
|
| And he’s so persuasive when you look in his eyes all dumbfound
|
| And the double-talkin' politicians expose their intimate lives
|
| While the sheep are lowing for the shepherd to show he never arrives
|
| Fire one more round
|
| But hate is not a lone assailant
|
| Hear the drummers pound
|
| Listen to the homespun violent sound
|
| Sound
|
| Sound
|
| Ooh I’ll tell you how it
|
| Pains to say this
|
| Ugliness is ours
|
| 'Cause I would better lay in bed and
|
| Maybe even sleep all day
|
| Maybe sleep some more
|
| Some more
|
| Too
|
| Yeah now
|
| Suspicion is a powerful religion when it leads to the force on these shores
|
| In the jungles of the midwest dwarf militia train for war right on course
|
| Unlike the famous fable revolution won’t yield a firework show
|
| Unlike the famous fable revolution won’t end on July the Fourth
|
| Fire one more round
|
| But hate is not a lone assailant
|
| Hear the drummers pound
|
| Listen to the homespun violent sound
|
| Sound
|
| Sound
|
| Sound
|
| Yeah sound
|
| Yeah the homespun sound
|
| I hear the sound
|
| Yeah the homespun sound |