Вершы:
Motors The

sliver of a fingernail And I hear a rumbling I hear transmission grind I bear witness I have the clutch now Three times dark, on the turnpike From the Motor

Пераклад: Маторы. Легенда пра Джымі Косці.

Пераклад: Душа Кашаль. Горад Motors.

Crazy seeds of drugged up borough kids Are getting me right down it seems Peace and love and all that phoney stuff You just don't know what it means

So many times I've had that helpless feeling But no one or any kind of medicine worked at all It seems to me that I seem to be overheating A midnight

I am the serial killer I am the bloody hand I am the chief whore taker I am the chosen one I am the red straight razor The one who bathes in blood I

Say your prayers little one Don't forget my son To include everyone I tuck you in, warm within Keep you free from sin 'Til the sandman he comes Sleep

Cars are cars all over the world Cars are cars all over the world Similarly made, similarly sold In a motorcade, abandoned when they're old Cars are cars

Culture sucks down words Itemize loathing and feed yourself smiles Organize your safe tribal war Hurt maim kill and enslave the ghetto Each day living