Tekst:
U S Bombs Put Strength In The Final Blow

A nowhere nobel actor is on the shelf No one catches on so full of his own wealth He made his grave When he came to tinsel town Bathed himself all week

killing! The generation of baby boomer sluts! Who is the enemy? We are the dying breed Inconstant judgement, man you're obsolete Self pity generation, nuclear generation, a wannabe generation, there's

Originally by The Saints I'll make you crawl Make you wish that you were mine Gonna make you stall Know that yer gonna find I'm telling you I don't

s a paranoia Nice new house ya need Taught in school with a broken rule Teach ya bout the money pit Recluse in wealthy pools drowning me quick Your fantasy's

sun Decades paved in every craze Heroes less than one The mom cries her soldier died they were born confused A pawn claims he won the game who's really

He sees you and no one knows him Your thinking everybody owes em Your good at changing your face I didn't know ya never had to Think twice, a good fight