Your country raised you Your country fed you And just like any other country It will break you On front line send you Tax the hell out of you And just like any other country It will lock you up you! But unfortunately there'll be no judgement day It would be kind of fun to see What they would have to say When the god they preached Would actually be there And all who didn't like The Stooges Would go to fucking hell! What are all these countries How did they appear? Who cut up the cake? Who brought up all this gear? Did it have to do anything With its people's will? I don't know, I don't know I don't know my dear... But even all the garbage They pour over our eyes Does not prevent us from living Most magical of lifes Now it's six in the morning I'm down in New Orleans Sister paintings on the wall They will speak to me And up later on we resume salutations To the rest of local Tribal ConnectionsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
