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We're the loosers, |
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We see you're disdain |
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We're the tools for our own coloured fate |
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No one really knows our place |
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Justice, give us your grace! |
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Show your face! |
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But the war slaves of the lords drive us from land to land to the garbage canyons, to the eternal damned |
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And we ride like puppets on our boneless dogs, helpless, into the ghetto canyons "Antisocial" that's their only slang political correct on their stamps |
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Roast our bodies sharp! |
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Bon appetite! |
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Swallow our souls to vomit it! |
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And the forces of the lords drive us from land to land to the garbage canyons, to the eternal damned |
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Yes we ride, like puppets on our boneless dogs, helpless, into the ghetto canyons |
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Life injurance saves your future plan, saves your future in a wheel chair gang, but you laugh about this warning. |
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You wanna drift there where you want to the suicide angels, if your fate is turning wrong |
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Suicide angels, you want never fall down, down from the sky |
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That's illusion, you can never fall, cause you are living in the devil's reich |
