The minister of health and youth sends his son to
sell crack he gets the profit, the son gets the
crap Here, where the mothers are pimps blackmail
daughters to sell smack to the judge and to the
priest. You play a game like a cricket in the
garden of blood "And when you live as a boy you
better shut your mouth Or when you live as a boy
you give them a scent of blood or they break your
neck" Literature is dead because you know
everything about death anyway. Hearts are
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/T9yVfiregutted hooks tar benzoel and murder-oxide.
Fire's our blood The minister of law and order is
dancing on our grave. And rave! Decade of
rottening nicely and self-enjoyable. The mothers
of courage try to play their role in perfection
but their seats are cheap and the lodge is empty
anyway. Masonic lies hang like cobwebs from a
celling of baroque stucco sometimes angry young
men climb up and hang on ceiling peeing on the
lodge's chairs buy they are empty anyway.