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

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