President Dead

 

This is for the people that want you

This is for the people that want you

This is for the people that want you

Get high on violence, baby

 

President dead is clueless

And he's, caught in a head-lock police state

God and scalding stained glass

Incubated and get set to let our

Fingers buy the tickets to go find

God like a piggy in a fair

 

And we don't want to live forever

And we know that suffering is so much better

 

This is for the people that want you

This is for the people that want you

This is for the people that want you

Get high on violence, baby

 

Give the pills down to Buckwheat

All could be martyred in the Winter of our discontent

Get high on violence, baby

Every night we are nailed into place and

Every night we just can't seem to

Ever remember the reason why

Get high on violence, baby

 

And we don't want to live forever

And we know that suffering is so much better

 

Get high on violence, baby

 

And we don't want to live forever

And we know that suffering is so much better

 

And we don't want to live forever

And we know that suffering is so much better

 

And we don't want to live forever

And we know that suffering is so much better

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