Testi:
Marce Americane

Hidden tombs and solitude hunger stikes or belly aches handcuffed pines and crossed picket lines sacrifice is a tear away Barren plans, buried two fingers

The days stretch out into endless fever dreams I could sleep all day and I will but there will be no reprieve From exhaustion Spent years thinking I

threat waved to the comunist fall and from down here I read four letter words on the bathroom stalls and in the union halls the American Revolution is

There's no justice There ain't no peace until you're dead One step forward and two steps back Flowery poetry dowsed in hate And if there's a love I hope

re not more angry It's a mans world but it's falling apart No we don't share a thing we kill and rob and anthropomorphize God Battle drums of the Rogues March

In the flatlands its uphill everywhere you go. I can feel the fuckers in the hills looking down their noses. At the black man white man heading off

Times like these are fleeting at best to hell with the rest trust is like suicide what I mean to say is you don't have a choice either way some things

sud America; l'America e un sogno, un'invenzione, una necessita non si puo stare senza sognare, senza America. Com'era bella l'America, quando

Je fais des reves americains Devant toi, devant moi Des reves americains Sur Hollywood, le boulevard Je fais des reves americains Los Angeles, des musiciens