Nail their bodies to the crucifix,
slit the throats of all the priests.
The last smile they will ever express,
a gaping hole running right through their necks.
The snakes get fat while the good rats die,
so all the pigs should be bled dry.
Who's with me?
All your sins will be forgiven,
when your blood begins to thicken.
You have no answers to our questions,
god bless this great depression.
The snakes get fat while the good rats die,
and all the pigs should be bled dry.
Who's with me?
Throw the bodies into the streets,
{we're} nothing more than rotting meat.
Taught not to bite the hand that feeds,
till it's cold and dry and no longer bleeds.
The snakes get fat while the good rats die,
so all the pigs should be bled dry.
The London metropolitan, all the fucking clergymen,
child abusers, national front,
rapists, racists, all fucking scum.
And they march hand-in-hand,
they rape our green and pleasant land.
Dust to dust, earth to earth,
the new born babies {should be} drowned at birth.
There ain't no future for England's sons,
their nine years old, and they all carry guns.
So take out your crowbars, take out your knives,
drain out your blood we all deserve to die.
It's time for us to take a stand,
we are dying on our knees in this grey broken land.
And all the martyrs they have convinced themselves,
that death ain't a sin, when you're living in Hell.
There ain't no glory, and there ain't no hope,
we will hang ourselves, just show us the rope.
There ain't no scapegoats left to blame,
we brought this on ourselves when we could have been the change.
Grey Britain is fucking dead,
so cut our throats, end our lives, let's fucking start again. |
