SORRY WE'RE OPEN Lyrics
| Song | SORRY WE'RE OPEN |
| Artist | Bonaparte |
| Album | SORRY, WE'RE OPEN |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Sorry we´re open | |
| come in we´re closed | |
| i´m warming the raclette oven | |
| i said | |
| come in we´re closed | |
| it was great talking to you | |
| having nothing to say | |
| but now that that´s been said | |
| get the fuck away | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bass-drum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i´m gonna raise my voice | |
| it´s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar | |
| i´m cursing an ointment | |
| hear me snorting a symphonie | |
| every flatulence an opera | |
| every drop of sweat an elegy | |
| create something out of nothing | |
| i faking the highlights | |
| i could | |
| my fingerprints in mass production | |
| a public hair nailed to a pieve of wood | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bass-drum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i´m gonna crack my voice | |
| it´s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar | |
| i don´t knoe where i´m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| i don´t knoe where i´m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| i don´t knoe where i´m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| if i knew where i was going | |
| i wouldn´t want you to come with me | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bass-drum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i´m gonna crack my voice | |
| it´s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar |
| Sorry we re open | |
| come in we re closed | |
| i m warming the raclette oven | |
| i said | |
| come in we re closed | |
| it was great talking to you | |
| having nothing to say | |
| but now that that s been said | |
| get the fuck away | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bassdrum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i m gonna raise my voice | |
| it s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar | |
| i m cursing an ointment | |
| hear me snorting a symphonie | |
| every flatulence an opera | |
| every drop of sweat an elegy | |
| create something out of nothing | |
| i faking the highlights | |
| i could | |
| my fingerprints in mass production | |
| a public hair nailed to a pieve of wood | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bassdrum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i m gonna crack my voice | |
| it s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar | |
| i don t knoe where i m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| i don t knoe where i m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| i don t knoe where i m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| if i knew where i was going | |
| i wouldn t want you to come with me | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bassdrum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i m gonna crack my voice | |
| it s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar |
| Sorry we re open | |
| come in we re closed | |
| i m warming the raclette oven | |
| i said | |
| come in we re closed | |
| it was great talking to you | |
| having nothing to say | |
| but now that that s been said | |
| get the fuck away | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bassdrum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i m gonna raise my voice | |
| it s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar | |
| i m cursing an ointment | |
| hear me snorting a symphonie | |
| every flatulence an opera | |
| every drop of sweat an elegy | |
| create something out of nothing | |
| i faking the highlights | |
| i could | |
| my fingerprints in mass production | |
| a public hair nailed to a pieve of wood | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bassdrum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i m gonna crack my voice | |
| it s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar | |
| i don t knoe where i m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| i don t knoe where i m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| i don t knoe where i m going | |
| everbody follow me | |
| if i knew where i was going | |
| i wouldn t want you to come with me | |
| my guitar like a kalashnikov | |
| my bassdrum like a bazooka | |
| pick up youre artillery | |
| in the myth of defeat | |
| and if i m gonna crack my voice | |
| it s my weapon of choice | |
| the end of entertaiment | |
| is the beginning of war | |
| my guitar | |
| my guitar |
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