Four thousand bikes met a force of seven.
Fourth of July was the time,
In a town called Hollister,
At the uphill climb.
Poor Jack Kerouac,
Riding with his paperback, Camus,
In the pocket of his army fatigues.
Kind of hard to spend your time
Keeping cans of soup in line,
When you've been the waist gunner
On a B.57
Singing,
Anger incorporated
Anger
Anger incorporated
Anger
Whoever you are,
They will scare.
No friend of hoodlums anywhere,
Like John Dillinger - number one.
Crime crazy filthiness all rolled into one.
Poor Jack Kerouac,
Riding with his paperback, Camus,
In the pocket of his army fatigues.
Kind of hard to spend your time,
Keeping cans of soup in line,
When you've been the waist gunner,
On a B.57
Singing.
Anger incorporated
Anger
Anger incorporated
Anger
Anger incorporated
Anger
Anger incorporated
Anger
Born in the shadow of the Boozefighters,
In tiny bars and up all nighters.
Terrorizing the local staff.
Cool and Crazy,
Two wheeled Luftwaffe.
Singing.
Anger incorporated
Anger
Anger Incorporated
Anger
Adam Ant