Gasoline in my veins, Wind in my hair, Trouble in the air.
Dust down my boots, Sing by the flag.
Reformation, Our country needs it and we don't mind the kissing too. Terrorism in the backyard, terror in the house, we dont need the terrorists to terrorize, we got our "leaders" to do it but we don't want no terrorist to lead us.
Presidency?! The march of the puppets, A waste of mud, slinging in thin air. Who makes the rules we do not know and the sad part, we do not care.
Land of the masses, piled up on bodies, blood red and green and saffron, and blue and black whatever does it matter. Does a dead man speak?
Speaking about dead men, not the only death in the country. As we stretch red eyes over the gleaming casket of television, the stinking corpse of media.
Conglomerates Conglomerates You have bought the truth and packaged it in lies.
Not South not North not North East not anywhere but inside. In a land of oppurtunity we crave for boundaries, living in hypocrisy we invent our ideologies.
Dust down my boots, Sing by the flag.
Reformation, Our country needs it and we don't mind the kissing too. Terrorism in the backyard, terror in the house, we dont need the terrorists to terrorize, we got our "leaders" to do it but we don't want no terrorist to lead us.
Presidency?! The march of the puppets, A waste of mud, slinging in thin air. Who makes the rules we do not know and the sad part, we do not care.
Land of the masses, piled up on bodies, blood red and green and saffron, and blue and black whatever does it matter. Does a dead man speak?
Speaking about dead men, not the only death in the country. As we stretch red eyes over the gleaming casket of television, the stinking corpse of media.
Conglomerates Conglomerates You have bought the truth and packaged it in lies.
Not South not North not North East not anywhere but inside. In a land of oppurtunity we crave for boundaries, living in hypocrisy we invent our ideologies.
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