Из альбома: Portrait Of An American Family
Man in the front got a sinister grin, careen down highway 666
We wanna go, crush the slow, as the pitchfork bends the needles grow
My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement
We're gonna ride to the abbey of thelema, to the abbey of thelema, blood is pavement
The grill in the front is my sinister grin, bugs in my teeth make me sick sick sick
The objects may be larger than they appear in the mirror
When you ride you're ridden, when you ride you're ridden
I am fueled with the filth and fury, Do what I will, I will hurry there