. |
With each song music īs
dying
In our beautiful city, in this confused atmosphere,
dirty trashy sound of meat is feeding this cult of fear
Big invasion of loud sound, no longer a distant dream,
the disaster has arived, the distorted guitar stream
Through my rounded lips and wide open hair,
just to drink and play with no message to share
Trough my downtuned strings, and the bad words I say,
we donīt want no beuty, nice melodies to play
From the first day it was all clear, all I want is play out loud,
how or why is not important, why use vocals we can shout
Using gear thatīs just the best, to be out of tune is fine,
why to practice, letīs just rest, cheers with fruit wine on the best
Through my rounded lips and D dropped strings,
harmony and beat unimportant things!
Through my downtuned strings, pure crunch nothing more,
who cares about solos, I use only four!
We all scream for tolerance, we all dream ībout understanding,
but this attitude you have, makes this long war neverending
Blood - Fuck - Die
|