| Mister of course
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| AKA of course
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| Wake up lost
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| In the sleep walk
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| I’m dreamin about
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| The days I’ll be outlined in chalk
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| I’m feeling (*yawn) a little groggy
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| But yeah, I remember now
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| Back to the hunt
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| The individually wrapped servants now
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| Suck the fuckin' life out of ‘em!
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| Packaging we need more packaging
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| Computers, computers please
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| All the robots eyes are wired now
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| Back in the swing of things
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| They sing for the distraction it brings
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| I flap my jaws cuz I’m the one
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| Who works the crap outta these things
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| Fuck ‘em. |
| Every day’s my birthday
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| I’ll make and break these insects
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| Then I send them on their way
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| Pay me. |
| Hoping flip the switch
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| And some more electric now
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| We squeeze the peoples
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| Till the loose stools flies out
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| They go without, I go with
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| Coffee, teas and grabbin' a slice of cake
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| I make these empty little emcees
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| And fill ‘em up great
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| Ha, keep working
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| The big return is lurking
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| Just keep on marching kid
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| Just keep on marching kid
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| It’s movin' inch by inch
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| It’s movin' grain after grain
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| Movin' one by one
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| For the universal brain
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| Never flinch to get squished
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| Never stop consuming shit
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| Just move your fucking legs for the queen
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| And that’s it
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| Inch by inch
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| Moving grain after grain
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| Moving one by one
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| For the universal brain
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| Never flinch to get squished
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| Never stop consuming shit
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| Just move your fucking legs for the queen
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| And that’s it
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| Hop on top of a silo
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| I’m screaming out for survival
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| I’m face to face with my rivals
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| My papermate is my rifle (FIRE!)
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| Down in that ant hole
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| You can follow disorder
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| Put a stop to production
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| All soldiers across the border
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| And boarded up tenements
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| Residents they’re spendin' and send ‘em with
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| She smoked her life away
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| Lady the baby’s innocent
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| So, don’t ever go against the grain
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| Cuz a rope is hangin for you off the frame
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| Of mind a changing time you spent
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| She like: I ain’t chaning mine
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| Well I can’t worry ‘bout your money
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| You can stay behind
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| You’re closed minded
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| You can’t see through the opening
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| I’m from the home of more rednecks
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| Than bowling pins
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| Inches by inches
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| We’re swimmin' down through the trenches
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| The room will fill up with tension
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| The instant we hit the entrance
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| The black army ant
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| Just watch you can’t get rid of me
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| Loud in your crowd
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| Like Mussolini in Italy |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ants, artist - P.O.S. Album song Ipecac Neat, in the genre Иностранный рок