Life these days has high demands, Seems like so much is out of our hands, But we gain so much more control when we just, Take a little help from our
(Music : Azagthoth / Lyrics : Vincent) Cold finger on the trigger Behind a line drawn in the sand Anger rise ! We fight a war with much at stake The rights
Hey you, remember me Way back in North Quincy Go fast, hold back If we hold on for one day We just might last I remembers bouts Morning blackouts Coupled
You used my name under false pretense You wrote my name at the side of the fence I got you in the corner where I wanted you Got you in the corner where
You always told me you wanted something more I couldn't give you what you were looking for Is that a reason to stab me in the back? Now tell me, baby
Met a ragin' Cajun down in Louisiana And her flowered dress said her name was Hannah In her high button shoes we do it to and fro She said, "Do you know
Slow to speak, slow to anger Slow to speak, slow to anger Slow to speak, slow to anger Slow to speak, slow to anger Slow to speak, slow to anger Slow
How many Americans do we have in here tonight? In the days following September 11th last year Everybody that was a poet or a writer or a song writer
The more of you that I inspect The more of me I see reflect The more I try to read your lips The more the mask you're wearing rips But when I seek out
I still remember how it used to be I thought the only thing that mattered was me You always told me it was just insane To feel such joy, while others
I wonder what you're thinking When your fist was in my face Was it nice to have the feeling None of that power gone to waste And you think that I can
Rambling faces Between foggy rails Together alone It's a gathering place Hide behind yourself I can't understand Walk on your own way Maybe you will
We`ve been here before I know it`s getting late But we can`t walk away We walk around this room So angry and upset There ain`t no giving in Tell me what
(Willcox/Bogen) Just the same old world in a new dimension All pent up with a few more tensions Sleepless mouths, restless feet Waiting to enter dead
I hope your radio won't play until I've had my say I hope your mail always fails to reach you Until you wanna hear from me I hope your wristwatch goes
Don't be angry with me, you darling If I fail to understand All your little whims and wishes all the time Just remember, I'm kind of dumb I guess like
September '75 I was 47 inches high Mom said by Christmas I would have A bad ass mother G.I. Joe For your little minds to blow I still got beat up after
This is an obsession, a kind of aggression with himself It's the way he'll always be He loves to rebel to go against his ten commandments For him, that