| comin thru the barricades | |
| cuttin the lines | |
| the red lights goin round | |
| like insanity sirens | |
| the end of the galaxy | |
| the middle of the road | |
| where the blackout moons | |
| cut the weather of couls | |
| black engines grind down | |
| teeth are raw the rubber juggernaut | |
| rots in a shattering jaw | |
| helter skelter bulldozers | |
| runnin over the block | |
| where a pawn shop clock | |
| is ticking out like a bomb. | |
| its a chain reaction | |
| like a chain reactor blowing out of my arms | |
| shoot every paranoid phantom | |
| thats done me harm | |
| like a desolate specter in a pummel of fists | |
| kicking against the pricks | |
| burning black like wicks | |
| they spit pig iron, | |
| tell you nothing is wrong | |
| put a heart on a pike | |
| sing a ressurection song | |
| for a paralysed mind in a kerosene jar | |
| barracuda believer with a heathen guitar | |
| apocolyptic nostalgia tokens | |
| dark arts sell sail for antartica oceans | |
| its a chain reaction. |