Little games (Live @ Grand Bourbon Street 06.04.2014)
Little Games
Advocates of sanctity spread the sickness I once had a chance to kick one I'm kicking the others out of my way And these words I say For those who peck your neck as a matter of fact Then stab their friends in the back Of a bar with no decent sound Not one decent sound
My genes are a justification Of my way with the hatred And some say I lack any patience But I sing with Patience
Leave me in starvation Only two trembling hands Are creating a nation of weasels Who are strong and pure These little notes are the diesel
Trick me into your little games
I see my mission in fighting the coma Undo the armor, back to the hurting game It still keeps me sane I jump out of the tower of shame With no parachute, ever so sure To get rid of the old sore left brain But I stay alive again...
Zen has nothing to do with your life Unless you're dying And I'm so alive And forever moving
I wish that my hands were of a soothing quality for you I'm sorry the statement is false But I am not changing my course For once there won't be a because