Из альбома: Motograter
New plague, getting paid, everyone is guilty
Taxes on the lotto, waters gotten filthy
Psychos, weirdos, percocet and morphine
Little imperfections cost us all, cost us all
I saw a missile filled with frightened people
Crashing down, into a ball of flames
Something tells me this is almost over
Someone tell them it's almost over
Slave camps, last dance, billion dollar mishaps
Bombshells, nitro, anything that you can throw
Housewives, onion rings, AOL and crashing planes
Second-rate therapy, everybody's crazy
I saw a black cloud above the forest
Wiping clean till nothing else remained
Something tells me it's almost over
Someone tell them it's almost over
Makes me sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick to makes that its you
Makes sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick and it makes me ill
Makes me sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick to makes that its you
Makes sick to know that it's your fault
Makes me sick and it makes me ill
Monstrous, what we've become, space waste, brain dumb
Nostradomus prophecies, warfare
Enemies! Enemies! Enemies!
Will someone tell them it's almost over