Print

They killed our electric guitars And, if not for the good people weeping All we'd hear is the sounds of our horses dying But I'm not 'bout to start crying about it It must be fairly normal To devolve into cycloptic brooding As the genocidal massacres you rubbed Over some perceived sedition Insecurities of men messing everything up again (All us charmed proteins feral in the gales only) I've never followed no kind of master's voice The mutinous tramp of cult voltage crucifixion is my conduit I just watched my hero fail Now I'm in a dark and violent funk Every leader is a cellophane punk If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) There must be a softer vision that you could kick to In this aureate gloom, I assume Both sides are embarrassingly backwards in their thinking There ain't no one to side with, none I want to defend Songtexte (It's only the mute-minded surge of simian blood) People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution When they resurface, there's a black hole in their skull People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution When they're returned, all their childhood memories are dead I've never follow no kind of master's voice The mutinous tramp of cult vulture crucifixion is my conduit I just watched my hero fail Now I'm in a dark and violent funk Every leader is a cellophane punk If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) I've never follow no kind of master's voice The mutinous tramp of cult voltage crucifixion is my conduit I just watched my hero fail Now I'm in a dark and violent funk Every leader is a cellophane punk If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) Yeah! I believe in witches I believe in you I believe in witches I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you I believe in witches I believe in you I believe in witches I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you Aus Songtexte Mania