Song | Lift The Veil, Kiss The Tank |
Artist | The Blood Brothers |
Album | Young Machetes |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Blood Brothers | |
<here comes the man with concussions in his pocket. | |
here comes the man with a laser-guided rocket. | |
here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can kill with no remorse, | |
with no recourse, dance on your conscience until it's a corpse. | |
war never ends. | |
war never begins. | |
hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
his mouth's an empty room where wild woes wander. | |
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
his mouth's an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
here comes the man. | |
so you charge into battle, muscles rippling, tanks tingling. | |
before you fire a shot a white flash feels up your flesh | |
and cloaks you in a robe of blood, maydays you in a ship of mud. | |
war never ends. | |
war never begins. | |
hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
his mouth's an empty room where wild woes sleep sow. | |
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
his mouth's an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
they left you for dead in the desert haunted with the ghosts of prostitutes. | |
they want you! | |
they want you! | |
dress my corpse up in a low-cut dress. | |
drizzle lipstick on my charred french kiss. | |
dip my severed jaw in cheap cologne, | |
push-up bras dangling from snapped elbows. | |
but death's just death no matter how you dress it up.> |
zuo qu : Blood Brothers | |
here comes the man with concussions in his pocket. | |
here comes the man with a laserguided rocket. | |
here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can kill with no remorse, | |
with no recourse, dance on your conscience until it' s a corpse. | |
war never ends. | |
war never begins. | |
hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes wander. | |
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
here comes the man. | |
so you charge into battle, muscles rippling, tanks tingling. | |
before you fire a shot a white flash feels up your flesh | |
and cloaks you in a robe of blood, maydays you in a ship of mud. | |
war never ends. | |
war never begins. | |
hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes sleep sow. | |
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
they left you for dead in the desert haunted with the ghosts of prostitutes. | |
they want you! | |
they want you! | |
dress my corpse up in a lowcut dress. | |
drizzle lipstick on my charred french kiss. | |
dip my severed jaw in cheap cologne, | |
pushup bras dangling from snapped elbows. | |
but death' s just death no matter how you dress it up. |
zuò qǔ : Blood Brothers | |
here comes the man with concussions in his pocket. | |
here comes the man with a laserguided rocket. | |
here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can kill with no remorse, | |
with no recourse, dance on your conscience until it' s a corpse. | |
war never ends. | |
war never begins. | |
hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes wander. | |
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
here comes the man. | |
so you charge into battle, muscles rippling, tanks tingling. | |
before you fire a shot a white flash feels up your flesh | |
and cloaks you in a robe of blood, maydays you in a ship of mud. | |
war never ends. | |
war never begins. | |
hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes sleep sow. | |
young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
they left you for dead in the desert haunted with the ghosts of prostitutes. | |
they want you! | |
they want you! | |
dress my corpse up in a lowcut dress. | |
drizzle lipstick on my charred french kiss. | |
dip my severed jaw in cheap cologne, | |
pushup bras dangling from snapped elbows. | |
but death' s just death no matter how you dress it up. |