Print

Don't try to resist, you're coming with us. provisions are made, accommodations are met. your words are recoded in the bleak genetics of the mob. praise apocrypha-omitted offense, to relieve us of guilt but not of our sin we've sacrificed discourse at the feet of your clever turn-of-phrase. now you owe it to us, we demand to be taken aback, to be showed the revival of hope, for which your words are responsible. Oh, it's the end of the line, I'm cornered by a precedent; the sneering public eye My job here is done. My job here is done (you're fucking welcome). retract the accolade, the candid acclaim inspiration is cutting its loss regurgitate headlines or a theory on modern art You've been fooled again, the red herring's a joke. I've tried so hard to tell you that I tapped the well dry, but there's no word stay wistful and young the affected are banking on oblivion in the drone of embittered hope, and we're sold by the way they wrote it. Oh, it's the end of the line, SongtexteI'm cornered by a precedent; the sneering public eye My job here is done. My job here is done it is better to destroy than to create what is meaningless, so the picture will not be finished Aus Songtexte Mania