Dead Season - For the Radio | Текст песни

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• Dead Season
• For the Radio

FOR THE RADIO

Fuck you. Fuck. You
Fuck you for writing shit, fuck your crazy bitch
Something in your mouth makes me so sick
How the hell did it come to this? And why is it about your dick?
The music of today makes me so Goddamn pissed

There's one thing that I want you. There's one thing I want you to know
There's one thing that I want you. There's one thing I want you to

Fuck Theory of a Dick, Nicklesack of shit, fuck you too if you listen to it
Formula that makes a hit, it's catchy though you must admit
The music of today makes me so Goddamn pissed

Every song they sound the same, it's such a bullshit game
For the radio you sell your soul and all you know
Every star they look the same, and every star you love was made
For the radio, you sell your soul and all integrity
Fuck you. Fuck me.

There's one thing that I want you. There's one thing I want you to know
This song's for the radio, this song's for the radio

Fuck songs that whine and bitch, scream and throw a fit
Fuck the pansy class that makes me cringe
Fuck you if your pants don't fit, you crying little Emo bitch
The music of today makes me so Goddamn pissed

Every song they sound the same, it's such a bullshit game
For the radio you sell your soul and all you know
Every star they look the same, and every star you love was made
For the radio, you sell your soul and all integrity
Fuck you. Fuck me.

Every song they sound the same, it's such a bullshit game
For the radio you sell your soul and all you know
Every star they look the same, and every star you love was made
For the radio, you sell your soul and all integrity
Fuck you. Fuck me.

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