Testi:
Find Him And Kill Him Cut Them To Pieces

look, and they may have the sound, but they'll never be one of us. these prospective prom kings and prom queens will move on soon enough and nobody will miss them

hook line and sinker, we fucking buy it because what's not to like about sixty second spots leading from pink floyd straight into talk of heaven and revenge and

of punk achieve some modicum of mainstream success. and every couple of years, a seemingly endless parade of soundalikes and fakes comes out of the woodwork to get a piece

change and we can do to change thie world, but we can't seem to get our acts together to change our immediate surroundings. we pardon and excuse

soemthing else. and somebody bought what we produced. and so on and so on and so on. we become producers of more consumers. over and over again

hands up and say that this was inevitable and hat we might as well get used to it. we slowly lose whatever claim we had on our scene and willingly hand

Outlaw riders Mash up on the gas pedal Vacate the scene Count the cash and stash the precious metal Here come the coppers The swat team and the helicopters Them

harm The mother told him that all the things On the earth Had sworn an oath not to harm nor Kill her son 'All? ', he asked and then she told him That

it was I was having drinks with my cousin. And I wrapped him in Christmas lights, pushed him into the stinking tub, Cut him up into pieces and just when