Bang and blare these sweaty prayers. Feed your skull. We're accidents, who*es and wrecks. You're not alone. We are f**ed up I know on this junk we've been told. Punk or lust? This machine, let it bleed. Let it explode. They kicked our teeth, called us freaks, you're not alone. We are f**ed up I know on this junk we've been told. Punk or lust? They don't know the power of amplifiers or the gutter is where we feel alive. They don't know the only thing left's to write in this heaven of the angry, young and wild.