From the left shoulder of a nation From skies lacking the mechanisms of death From the burdened bellies of wrought iron angels we come, we drop, we're bombs And we're in. Hordes of us, scraping over the walls
There is no darkness so deep that we cannot paint it present There is no cause so bleak that we will bail in vain We are the brain's army, dispatched in vein and we c-c-course Dead eyes run through. Ink and pigment splattered on barren ground Swords aloft! Screaming battle cries in all tongues lost The old blood boiling over timeless ideals We are staining every soul present enough to look up; Go home Scarred and tattoo the sound all over your body, for these Sun-dipped blades herald brighter spirits coming And that gray lump you call a head is sliced clean off
Once a benevolent president tears open your cheek, a tongue will come flopping out It will lay on the ground licking slush off our frozen streets Then it will die. Your love curdled already besides I'll kiss your hand, but you won't see the smirk beneath my lowered eyes Nothing can get wise All of my children are carrying knives
More pressure. More fire. More peace. More vibe More people. More freedom. More heat. More live More voice. More feet. More song. More rise More echo. More cloud. More test. More sky No quarter! No vote! No power! No vice! No king! No vision! No womb! No right! More signal! More move! More center! More light! More pressure! More fire! More peace! More vibe! More! How 'bout a little warhead in your abdomen? Ooh, how 'bout a stain? How about armada is to javelin what battle is to game? Oh! Inverted world I'm thinking Nobel Prize Because the marriage of preemption and commerce? That was mine I prefer a phallus to a circle every time I prefer to make a beat that wipes a village from the map I prefer a falling payload when it's dancing on your lap Are you perverts having fun yet?
It all comes out grey and matters less with each sunset
Here come a bomb. The sound above language The sound off-kilter with casualties pending The patented death. The action-packed ending It's not sarcasm. We're training eyes Hands were we can see them. Ass in the sky Asinine lies for assassins in need Of motives for making that human ink bleed Champions, fly
Calling all living. Affirming all dreams Screaming all hell. As real as it seems Rescind your explosions. Get up off toes Kids are at attention tended towards prose Smolder at shows, shoulder all comers Dirty old bushmen your season is waning Sorry about peace, big fucking bummer Ignite a new kind of soul fusing father and mother Here come the heat. Nuclear Summer
More pressure. More fire. More peace. More vibe More people. More freedom. More heat. More live More voice. More feet. More song. More rise More echo. More cloud. More test. More sky No quarter! No vote! No power! No vice! No king! No vision! No womb! No right! More signal! More move! More center! More light! More pressure! More fire! More peace! More vibe! More pressure! More fire! More peace! More vibe! More! More! More! More! More! More! More! More! More! More! More!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
