Sunday mornin?, here we are The boy?s come home Not quite the movie star He?s been in Hollywood The boy?s come home The boy?s done good He says she
Wake up every morning, every morning is the same The coffee and the paper, and the fountains at your brain Nothing's changed You don't understand how
[Music: Christophe, Lyrics: Sven] Murder I have been embraced by suffering, No longer human, I stalk my prey To kill and gut all surrounding me Humanity
What you do to me leaves puddles at my feet Won't it make me ill, the way you make me feel? Can't remember when my senses were so bent Tell me your impressed
like i knew that you would come to me and we would run away with all our dreams. Don't you think if i prepared a bit that we would try to make it all
Here we go Here we go The name is AC And I'm here to make it hot I step into a room you could hear a pin drop Now I know you know I rocked alot of tunes
From my armchair I look into the future, see the darkness rising a tidal wave that takes my thoughts and flood them into the past on to the shore of puzzled
Minolta devil exposure wide lens view Check for dentals and niggaz next to push tha Benz through You know the glow iced out rings long dough Spandex Mossino
Minolta devil expousure wide lens view Check for dentals and niggaz next to push tha Benz through You know the glow iced out rings long dough Spandex
Hey! what's that noise? do you remember? kill yourself at work for what seems nothing at all then you go home and you cry and you feel so very small,
' Static Feedback and Noise ' - the Casualties sick sick sick - of the music of today sick sick sick - we need a fucking change sick sick sick - their
sick sick sick - of the music of today sick sick sick - we need a fucking change sick sick sick - their groups are such a waste sick sick sick - I need
it's gracious of you to hold your arms throw your charms around me it's gracious of you to lead me by the hand I really love you it's gracious of you
Well I might just consider this If you don't let me down If you can keep me happy Well you can stick around Now I don't care for sycofants They drive
Shower me with brittle punches Rain them on me The time I spent was fruitless Futile it seems But as I reach so endlessly The straws are short Love seek
Elvis lives and Bob Dylan is dead And OJ's wife's crawling back from the dead Love is great, oh yeah, love is good And my bed friend thinks that love
Tickles to the touch of gold Fickle as a two year old With the attention span of a schitzophrenic man Chorus Everybody wants to speak The competition