| He’s gonna go, go get it
|
| Gonna run, run set it
|
| In an otherwise hidden realm
|
| Everybody knows it’s fucking wild in a new frontier unbound
|
| It’s not the style, nor a trial
|
| It’s the best of love and fate
|
| So, come on everybody, let’s get together
|
| High above the backdrop of hate
|
| Well there’s no more food on the table
|
| What once was strong, no longer able
|
| And an open mind, no longer stable
|
| And it spin like a DJ’s turntable
|
| A million eyeballs and a blink and a smile
|
| With no dimensions of sight
|
| Well within an inch, a billion colors
|
| The entire world’s contrast light
|
| Oh it ain’t right, another fight
|
| Well it gets so very clear
|
| With my passion on a stud, I walk through
|
| I walk through the vicious ones
|
| And I really don’t care
|
| Well there’s no more food on the table
|
| What once was strong, no longer able
|
| And an open mind, no longer stable
|
| And it spin like a DJ’s turntable
|
| My western mind has a hard time
|
| Getting across distrust
|
| Passive resistance, Your assistance:
|
| You’re the one smoking dust!
|
| It ain’t a style, nor a trial, it’s the best of love and hate
|
| Come on everybody lets get together, high above the backdrop of hate
|
| Well there’s no more food on the table
|
| And what once was strong, no longer able
|
| And an open mind, no longer stable
|
| And it spin like a DJ’s turntable
|
| We’ll spin like a DJ’s turntable
|
| We’ll spin like a DJ’s turntable
|
| We’ll spin like a DJ’s turntable |