Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Strike Blind!, artist - Sex Gang Children. Album song Blind!, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 30.06.1985
Record label: Cleopatra
Song language: English
Strike Blind! |
Jews for Jesus, for God’s sake |
I’ll be damned, I’ll strike blind |
I’m rated as a dog, that’s a poor choice |
But I’ll take it, I’ll scrape it, and I’ll fake it |
Holding your tongues for the rest of the world |
Get up on the table, give up your ass |
This is how I like you, strike blind |
Shake in bed, rage in bed |
Cage or else, I’ll strike blind |
Sweet tongue in roses and tungsten steel poses |
All in a working man’s day |
I remember those days in September |
And the bogeys cried chaos |
If you swing by the string |
And they know where you’ve been |
Don’t forget to tell them you saw me |
No don’t stare at the men who drink to the men |
The men with the guns in their bellies |
And you scorn at the girls with their breasts pressed hard |
Pressed hard up against the window |
And I’ll kiss you goodbye with a tear in your clothes |
And the memory of killing so many |
Young and lusty and jumping jack, move without pain |
But only at your bidding |
So get up, you horse, when you feel the earth quake |
Sweet tongue in roses, and tungsten steel poses |
All in a working man’s day |
I remember those days in September |
And the bogeys cried chaos |
If you swing by the string and they know where you’ve been |
Don’t forget to tell them you saw me |
No don’t stare at the men who drink to the men |
The men with the guns in their bellies |
Yes it’s doctors who die of brain tumours |
And you have the teeth of a carnival promoter |
And I’ll kiss you goodbye with a tear in your clothes |
And the memory of killing so many |
How is my chou-chou, oh where are you now? |
Yes I’m sometimes a jew, but always a nigger |
In innocence and guilt, I’ll strike blind! |
The bitch that bore you is on heat again |
She is the kind that wins, when the terrible price is paid |
Honey-bane, all over again |
Throw your money on the floor |
Throw back your head, and strike blind! |
I’ll kick them and tear them, I will never spare them |
Is love like a killer’s den? |
If you swing by the string, shout and tell them you saw me |
And my mother’s a target if they pay me enough |
And my conscious died with my father |
Yes it’s doctors who die of brain tumours |
And you have the teeth of a carnival promoter |
Well I Kiss you good-bye, if they pay me enough |
if they pay me enough, I’ll strike blind! |
And you scorn at the girls with their breasts pressed hard |
Pressed hard up against the window |
No don’t stare at the men who drink to the men |
The men with the guns in their bellies |
Yes it’s doctors who die of brain tumours |
And you have the teeth of a carnival promoter |
And I’ll kiss you goodbye with a tear in your clothes |
And the memory of killing so many |