1. |
5 AM
01:43
|
|||
I'm just looking for hips and lips
And not for who you are
oh, oh, oh
I'm going crazy
A fly trapped in a jar
5 a.m. and wasted
One reason why I'm still here
A hunter's fading hope that's fueled by alcohol
The morals of a saint
A sailor's vocabulary
The sex drive of a strauss-kahn
Free your inner slut
It's not going too far
Free your inner slut
Show what monsters we are
|
||||
2. |
Ratrace
02:01
|
|||
I see dead people
On a dead end road
With dead eyes
We're heading for what goal?
From the inside the hamsters wheel
Looks like the ladder of career
Open your legs, your head will follow
This is the violence they made you swallow
Like a deer in front of headlights
Stand still, don't move
Never ask why
Open your legs, your head will follow
This is the violence they made you swallow
All comes and goes
And nothing's stable
Go L.Y.M.D.I.F.Y. if you're not able
|
||||
3. |
Dirtbag
02:05
|
|||
I just came tumbling down this road
And I will stop where you make me
Stop! - yeah, you can choose to just go by
With a look of jealousy and fear
I'm just a playball in your hands
That is what I choose to be
It's up to anyone of you
To drag me down or set me free
REF:
Yeah, I'm a dirtbag, I'm a tramp
I don't know where it all ends
I'm a thief, yeah for sure
But I never wanted
And I'll never want what's yours'
You got a car, believe I lack
I got accomplices straight from your dreams
I know we're all stuck on this road
You're metaphorical, I'm real
And all the bad luck on this trip
True tragedy you deeply miss
I'll eat your garbage, steal your food
Your security's not worth a piss
|
||||
4. |
Make Vandalism Not Art
02:24
|
|||
Stop writing songs
These ain't times of les beaux arts
Stop writing songs
It's already too late
Stop writing songs
Inflame more than just some hearts
Stop writing songs
They channel our rage
Don't play your part
In this game
Make vandalism and not art
You better be smart
And make vandalism and not art
You can't buy it
You can't sell it
You can't deny it
Throw the first stone
Go shoplift the store
Break through the fence
And spraypaint the walls
Commit open crime
Don't hide behind your poetry
It's only art
And fucking not reality
Don't play your part...
Feelings are cheap
Just aim and pull and you will see
Stop writing songs
Start feeling the banality
Go to the Cop station
And knock out some fuzz
Stop writing songs
Don't be cowards like us
|
||||
5. |
Ride
03:18
|
|||
I can't sleep and I can't wake
I ran out of pills
My doctor turned to cocaine
And he sent me to the hills
I'm still so scared of growing old
Goodbye my friends, farewell
You're not the worst that could have been
As far as I can tell
This is me asking why
Or is this just my style?
Go fuck yourself and die
Now embrace this cryptic nightmare
And keep it's basement tight
Hang up the sun and then go down
a dusty satellite
Exploding caterpillars form a time between what's mine
The new horizon's dark, it is 'cause I decide
|
||||
6. |
Cratch / Crotch
02:08
|
|||
There's god
Inside of you
And still
You've got no soul
You're a cratch
there is not
by any means a chance
to conceal the stench
coming from
your crotch
|
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