Well, the bad gets worse, too fucked up and the hate grows more each day. So when the infected try to effect you, don’t listen to them when they say “Follow the rules and forget the bomb.” Communistical patriotic, the plan is subtle but it’s in the open. Kingpins Nazi scheme getting under your skin. Subliminal Fascism gettin’ under your skin, so you better wake up, US.
No one needs justice anymore, no voices raised in anger; we’ve all been tamed by our worlds…But I have heard of ways where people topple all injustice. No one lives their lives on bended knees and all bigotry is like a disease drowned in the sea and all can hold their head up high!
Hey, Ma and Pa, what the hell’s wrong wit chall? Fighting for love on an angel’s feather, why don’t ya’ll get your Sunday Comics? Well, it’s three the hard way. Doin’ it the wrong way — Ma hates Pa, Pa hates Ma, ;ittle sister say: “What the hey, hey!”
Congratulations on the mess you made of things; I’m trying to reconstruct the air and all that brings. The Sunday Comics are the compromise you own, but this is beginning to feel like the dog wants a bone. This is beginning to feel like the dawn of a loser forever.
My punctuality is well known. When the revolution takes place, I’ll be late and I’ll be shot as a traitor. when the sun rises I will not see. I regret nothing. It was worth it. Going through life without a timepiece did pay off.
They’re turning us into monsters, turning us into fire. Turning us into monsters and it’s all desire (it’s all desire, it’s all desire). Sunday Comics, pacifier, sinking soul where you are. Doesn’t make sense to, but it won’t be long ’cause kids with guns — easy does it, they got something to say no to.
I’m walking to the something, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. I’m reading too much Sunday; blah blah blah blah blah blah, Comics. I’m feeling really blah blah, I want to blah blah blah collapse. And in the end it means I blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
Drive with the dealership tag, that’s what they love; Sunday Comics on my shoulder, that’s what they love; the smell of new leather in the cold, that’s what they love; Strawhat V-neck t’s, that what they love
Being good ain’t enough lately; I ain’t got the strength to read me Sunday Comics. Can’t figure what got me here–I don’t want to preach alone, it’s easy to disappear…But mother I’m good as gold! Am I not your boy? Your child? The kid that I once was
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