| I'm a lexicon devil with a | |
| battered brain | |
| And I'm searchin' for a future- | |
| the world's my aim | |
| So gimme gimme your hands- | |
| gimme gimme your minds | |
| Gimme gimme this-gimme | |
| gimme tha-yea-yea-t... | |
| I want toy tin soldiers that can | |
| push and shove | |
| I want gunboy rovers that'll | |
| wreck this club | |
| I'll build you up and level your heads | |
| We'll run it my way cold men | |
| and politics dead... | |
| (Chorus) | |
| I'll get silver guns to drip old blood | |
| Let's give this established | |
| joke a shove | |
| We're gonna wreak havoc | |
| on the rancid mill | |
| I'm serachin' for something | |
| even if I'm killed... | |
| (Chorus) | |
| Empty out your pockets-you | |
| don't need their change | |
| I'm giving you the power | |
| to rearrange | |
| Together we'll run to the | |
| highest prop | |
| Tear it down and let it drop...away... | |
| (Chorus) |
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