Fear In The Squats Of The Dead

Cripple Bastards

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    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

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    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.

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    Composición: Cripple Bastards

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