1. |
City Of Rock
04:08
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A land of heat and light, dust and stone,
Carcass in the desert, stripped the bone.
A thousand days of burning sand.
Another broken promise in the promised land.
A land of solitude, silent death,
A desolate oasis, a dying breath.
A thousand nights of infinite sky.
Another broken stranger. Nowhere to hide.
It’s the city of rock,
Of rock and roll.
A land of sacrifice, air on fire.
A shimmering horizon. A funeral pyre.
A thousand steps, reclaimed by sand.
A father gives his offspring to the promised land.
It’s the city of rock,
Of rock and roll.
A land where water flows at their command.
Knowledge in the desert, hidden from harm.
A thousand days to heal your soul,
A thousand ways to make you whole.
It’s the city of rock
Of rock and roll
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2. |
Better Off Dead
04:27
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A source of confusion. An optical illusion.
A mass of contusion. A final solution.
Broken and twisted, battered and blistered,
Nature insisted, a shame she existed.
She’d be better off dead
Better off dead now
A source of infection, somethlng less than perfection.
A hideous reflection. Biological rejection.
Mysterious fever, she’s no believer,
So no one will grieve her, they know just where to leave her.
She’d be better off dead
Better off dead now
You don’t need perfect sight to see, your golden child will never be,
Take your healing hands off me.
I’m not broken, let me be.
A punishment sentence, no sign of repentance.
She’s weak and defenceless, she won’t feel the difference.
The looks that they give her, involuntary quiver,
As limbs start to wither. A walk by the river.
A secret unspoken, a commandment is broken,
Acceptance is token, prejudice awoken.
A curse, a possession, amphibian impression,
Superstitious obsession. A life of repression.
I’d be better off dead
Better off dead now
You don’t need second sight to see, your perfect child’s a fantasy.
Your thoughts and prayers won’t work on me.
I’m not broken, let me be.
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3. |
Postcard From Waco
05:47
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In a Texas town, they cut the body down.
Under a Texas sky, they hanged him high.
In a Texas fire, they pulled him higher.
In a Texas sun, they watched his body burn.
And they put it on a postcard
They dragged him down to City Hall.
The kids left school, they watched it all.
His burning flesh, doused with oil,
His boiling blood soaked the soil.
And they left their jobs, the cops stood by
And they praised the lord, while they hanged him high.
And they took his bones and they kept his chains
And they took their time, while he writhed in pain.
And they put it on a postcard.
Let’s make that life matter.
They loved their wives and they lived their lives.
They worked their jobs. They worshipped god.
They stood their ground. They built their town.
Where they hanged him high in the Texas sky.
And they put it on a postcard
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4. |
Cold Dead Hands
05:15
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So brave, so fearless. So what? I couldn’t care less.
Black heart, white hunter. You call it sport, I call it murder.
I’ll use a language that you understand,
I’ll take that rifle from your cold dead hands.
Your kill, your trophy. You know what? It doesn’t thrill me.
No risk, no glory. You took a life, no other story.
I’ll use a language that you understand,
I’ll take that rifle from your cold dead hands.
I want a trophy, it’s your head on a wall.
I want a trophy, it’s you skinned on the floor.
I’ll use a language that you understand.
I’ll take that rifle from your cold dead hands.
So strong, so noble. We got the picture, you’re going global.
So stop complaining. You say it’s sport, so start explaining.
I’ll use a language that you understand,
I’ll take that rifle from your cold dead hands.
I want a trophy, it’s your head on a wall.
I want a trophy, it’s you skinned on the floor.
I’ll use a language that you understand.
I’ll take that rifle from your cold dead hands.
Your life, it’s over. So dumb. You blew your cover.
Black heart, white hunter. It’s not a sport, committing murder.
I’ll use a language that you understand,
I’ll take that rifle from your cold dead hands.
I want a trophy, it’s your head on a wall.
I want a trophy, it’s you skinned on the floor.
I’ll use a language that you understand.
I’ll take that rifle from your cold dead hands.
Your motherfucking cold dead hands.
Cold dead hands.
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5. |
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There’s too many churches and not enough love.
There’s too many versions of their god above.
There’s too many scriptures and not enough truth.
There’s too many pulpits and not enough proof.
They’re preaching, they’re praying
We’re bowing, we’re paying,
They’re ruling, they’re lying,
We’re starving, we’re dying,
There’s too many prophets and not enough tax.
There’s too many angels and not enough facts.
There’s too many holy men rolling in cash.
There’s too many preachers, counting their stash.
They’re preaching, they’re praying
We’re bowing, we’re paying,
They’re ruling, they’re lying,
We’re starving, we’re dying,
They’re taking, they’re blessing,
We’re guilty, confessing,
They’ll never stop the lies
And we need more love.
There’s too many temples and not enough bread.
There’s too many time bombs ticking in my head.
There’s too many things that they made us afraid of.
There’s too many churches and not enough love.
They’re preaching, they’re praying
We’re bowing, we’re paying,
They’re ruling, they’re lying,
We’re starving, we’re dying,
They’re taking, they’re blessing,
We’re guilty, confessing,
They’ll never stop the lies.
And we need more love.
There’s too many things that they made us afraid of.
There’s too many churches and not enough love.
Amen.
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6. |
OK Boomer
03:05
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Never unemployed, never overjoyed,
Never late for work, now you’ve gone berserk.
You got a pension plan, you got a Spanish tan,
You had a kid or two, to follow on from you.
OK Boomer.
Are you OK Boomer?
Your parents fought a war. What were they fighting for?
They got you equal rights. They kept you safe a night.
They spilled their blood for you, but if they only knew
That when they turned around, you’d burn the whole thing down.
OK Boomer.
Are you OK Boomer?
Are we OK? No way.
You took away our drugs, supported right wing thugs.
You bought the Daily Mail and put our lives on sale.
We’re working zero hours for global superpowers
And yet you go insane when a girl complains.
OK Boomer.
Are you OK Boomer?
Are we OK? No way.
OK Boomer.
Are you OK Boomer?
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7. |
Up To No Good
02:39
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You’ve got that look in your eye, I’ve seen a thousand times.
It signals danger, so it’s time for goodbye.
Your mouth is writing cheques, that your body can’t sign.
It feels like danger, time to draw the line.
I know that you’re lying,
But I love your lies
Don’t know what you’re up to…but you’re up to no good
Don’t know what you’re up to but. No good.
You’ve got that fire in your eyes, I’ve seen a million times.
You’ve got a friend called danger, he’s no friend of mine.
You’re running on empty and you’re hitting the gas.
Your target’s danger and you’re going to crash.
You’re up to no good
And I like it, like it, like it, like it.
You’re up to no good
And I like it, like it, like it, like it, like it, like it, yeah.
You’ve got fear in your eyes, for the very first time.
You’re sensing danger at the end of the line.
It’s minutes to midnight, there’s no overtime.
It’s all guns blazing and everybody dies.
I know that you’re lying
But I love your lies
Don’t know what you’re up to…but you’re up to no good
Don’t know what you’re up to but. No good.
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8. |
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Woah oh no.
Time is out of joint,
Life is out of line,
There’s no time this time.
Life is out of hope,
The sands are running by.
There’s no tears to cry.
When the hand that rocks the cradle digs the grave.
Life without a path,
Endless in my mind.
There’s no road to find.
Light is out of sight.
Darkness crashing down.
There’s no way around.
When the hand that rocks the cradle digs the grave.
I can’t turn them back.
I can’t bring them back.
Rocks the cradle.
Woah oh no.
When the hand that rocks the cradle digs the grave.
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9. |
Inside Out
03:26
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You say you love me, like a gun to my head.
You say you love me, like a funnel web.
You say you love me and I want more.
You say you love me like an open sore.
You’re killing me inside out.
You’re ripping my insides out
And I like it.
I kinda like it.
I know I want you, like a thousand yard stare.
I know I want you like an anthrax scare.
I know I want you, I can’t survive.
I know I want you and you’ll eat me alive.
You’re killing me inside out.
You’re ripping my insides out
And I like it,
I really like it.
You see I need you, like a knife in the back.
You see I need you, like an acid attack.
You see I need you, need you inside.
You see I need you, like genocide.
You’re killing me inside out.
You’re ripping my insides out.
And I like it.
I kinda like it.
I like, I like it.
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10. |
||||
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We started off, our intentions were good,
To run some tests on planets in your neighbourhood.
We seeded life in primordial slime.
You fucked it up. Better luck next time.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
We gave you life and now we’re not so sure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
We hung around, keeping the score.
To end Jurassic, we sent a giant meteor.
Primate lines, so many to chose
You fucked it up. Some you win, some you lose.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
The air was clean, the water was pure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
Mankind evolved, we’re so not impressed.
And now we’ve landed, we’ll clear up your fucking mess.
You invented religion and guns.
You fucked it up. You can’t win them all son.
Across the worlds, you’re not that special.
You’re pretty dumb, you’re temperamental.
Your whole existence was experimental.
One thing we’ll keep…heavy metal.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
Abundant species, safe and secure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
We gave you life and now we’re not so sure.
You’ve the virus, we’re the cure.
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Alien Anomaly Singapore
An Alien artefact was discovered during the 2020 COVID lockdown.
It infected us with the virus of Alien rock.
Now it's our mission to infect the world.
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