Cripple Bastards - Fear In The Squats Of The Dead

Time will show who has talent
and who's doomed to stagnation.
We drove to the farest lands
to play in the worst squatted dogholes
in the name of an integrity often fading to nonsense
burnt out patience, tolerance
repaid by the umpteenth plain pat on the back.
No appeasement – no cash – no promotion
just the guarantee of being a brick….
to a castle whose foundations have no strength to stand up.

Forced to eat your shit
Resigned to breath morals
Reduced to sleep in your dirt
Stuck miles away from respect

Tipped as a thorn
my anger is like newborn
15 years screwed by this crowd of A-marked trash
A bullet in the head
a flame-thrower in my hands
the only way to abort this increasing mass of living dead

fill our dish with rewarmed tofu & 3 week old bread
being here to bring fun, I'm yer ideal moron in front of our sight a loser-type mass of scumbags
lobotomized by booze, lost in few rules.

Forced to eat your shit
Resigned to breath morals
Reduced to sleep in your dirt
Stuck miles away from respect

Tipped as a thorn
my anger is like newborn
15 years screwed by this crowd of A-marked trash
A bullet in the head
a flame-thrower in my hands
the only way to abort this increasing mass of living dead

I'm tired of passing over
decay of respect = the mirror of what you hide deep inside
an abyss of mediocrity
a shadow on my sun.
I'm tired of passing over.
and I won't be left behind.

[PS:] modern hippies on my grey-scale
mutilation of their fucking colours.