Learn to count first,
then to read,
and obey.
Make these ends meeting the hands
of the soul eaters, and the heart snatcher
Consume the rest of a life torn apart
by the painful feeling of letting everything passing by
Sounds like the payback
for playboys and playmates
whose play-rec’s life
now turns into playback
From fifteen to a banished sky,
we’d rather fuck the place up,
than spending long years
in places of death,
down in the dumps
Riding iron lines, grinding neons skies
Exploding tenses through space time
There’s nothing we fear,
Nothing we’re waiting for,
Nothing we need more than a deck,
a black ink cartridge belt,
- WE DON’T NEED ANYTHING MORE -
spitting cigarette burns
carved in rage
and drawn on pages of sand
It’s the way black sheeps act and think
to let this fuckin’ ship sink
We hate ourselves better than you.
No, It’s wrong,
what should we do