give me just a second to grasp your two-bit theories as that's more than enough time i need to see through their innate queries you're telling me to shape up or ship out but i'd never shape myself for something so offending as you and your kind

one day you sweetly sigh and say to yourself "music's my religion and i'm born again" next week your muse has got some corporate cash and all of a sudden the tunes are c___ keep your politics to yourself, kid to me you're just spitting wind a windspitting punk with high-brow views a P.C. fool who's saying nothing new again and again

what about the kids, p___-poor people and the broke or the s___s with overflowing pockets? or the cursed f___s, pointin' pistols at the pope. are they jusy martyrs fallen from your graces? (Koski/Goddard/Bonnel/Huber)

See also:
JustSomeLyrics
41
41.3
Cabaret Voltaire No Escape Lyrics
Circle of Dead Children Mother Pig Lyrics