Intro (William S. Burroughs): This is war to extermination Fight cell by cell through bodies and mind screens of the Earth Souls rotten from the orgasm drug Flesh shuddering from the ovens Prisoners of the Earth, come out Storm the studio
Live on a hot metal big-burner Bunsen Combustion or something and so on, fuck it See how the wrong side of tracks Made the dusted-est trash that intellect Dash to the wormhole, talk shit Walk with a holy heart raised In a dog shit, bitch, click chatter box, duck I'm a "holy fuck, what did he just utter?" marksman Orphan, a whore-born, war-torn life for the harvest A fair-trade target of air raid, starter kit Used heart plucked from the bargain bin I don't give a fraction of fractal of fucks I'm a Garbage Pail Kid calamity artist Pardon the pain puffs, smoke float ring Around martyrs, sing along, sat at piano Lap of my father, watching him talk harmonic Each key tapped to the BPM of the sirens Sound like a raining of notes in a protest pose Like a right string weaved on the keys Could relieve us of doom Give the room some silence, stop violence Pop bounced and a mom with her three survivors Got gone from the island, hopped to the County of kings where the bounty of things Not framed in past might last 'til the hatching Of manhood's timing, hop in the timeline See the turnstile young hopper, not for the rock For the talk good science alliance Drunk and defiant, sunset started up all night Crawl through the cracks in the halls Of the battered-up, scattered-up Middle finger, dick held, brick kids Screaming at the top of our airbags "This is our timing, we are not dying" Not for you, not for you (7x) Not for you, not, not, not for youTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
