They killed our electric guitars
And, if not for the good people weeping
All we'd hear is the sounds of our horses dying
But I'm not 'bout to start crying about it
It must be fairly normal
To devolve into cycloptic brooding
As the genocidal massacres you rubbed
Over some perceived sedition
Insecurities of men messing everything up again
(All us charmed proteins feral in the gales only)
I've never followed no kind of master's voice
The mutinous tramp of cult voltage crucifixion is my conduit
I just watched my hero fail
Now I'm in a dark and violent funk
Every leader is a cellophane punk
If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
"Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)
There must be a softer vision that you could kick to
In this aureate gloom, I assume
Both sides are embarrassingly backwards in their thinking
There ain't no one to side with, none I want to defend
(It's only the mute-minded surge of simian blood)
People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution
When they resurface, there's a black hole in their skull
People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution
When they're returned, all their childhood memories are dead
I've never follow no kind of master's voice
The mutinous tramp of cult vulture crucifixion is my conduit
I just watched my hero fail
Now I'm in a dark and violent funk
Every leader is a cellophane punk
If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
"Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)
I've never follow no kind of master's voice
The mutinous tramp of cult voltage crucifixion is my conduit
I just watched my hero fail
Now I'm in a dark and violent funk
Every leader is a cellophane punk
If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
"Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)
Yeah!
I believe in witches
I believe in you
I believe in witches
I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you
I believe in witches
I believe in you
I believe in witches
I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you