With a wink and a nod look, we're all giving favors There's four pale pinked boys in an accountants hand Examples must be made, discipline must be maintained We're all a little mad here what a joy it is to kill Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds 'Cause at the top of the world, we're all just the bottom line Someone's been shook red-handed Dead stage center at the shit-grin parade Beware, beware, beware of an aging pack of men Who think like cats, wow And it ain't be part of the future A pox on your phony kings And all night while you slumber You'll dream of electric sheep Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds 'Cause at the top of the world, we're all just the bottom line For we may perish at the hands we must shake Our bodies longing for the aches to escape In the filth they'll accept is the filth I'm dragging my belly through For we may perish at the hands we must shake Our bodies longing for the aches to escape In the filth they'll accept is the filth I'm dragging my belly through 'Cause we're being drowned out in our own fucking sound Now the teenage brigade has opinions And I can't get respect 'cause I'm not at the bar And the teenage brigade has opinions When I'm weak it is bleak and they're all capping me With their cold metal clutch on us tightly And I can't get respect 'cause I'm not at the bar And the teenage brigade has opinions So get hip to recouping with youth At the bottom of a rabbit's hole Do we all sound like this Do we all sound like this © GATSBY'S AMERICAN PUBLISHING; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com