Somewhere, out past nowhere I was born in the middle of an air raid Since i hit the dirt, i was on the run The son of a gun and a switchblade Got my uzi lying on my bed stand I made napalm in my sink Pipe-bomb in my pants pocket I just put cyanide in your drink Mic stand's always at my side Jack-knife in my boot Fully automatic machine-gun Is loaded and ready to shoot I strayed off the beaten path Now there's no place to hide My sadness and my wrath Contemplated suicide Somewhere, out past nowhere I lost my way No money to pay my fare The driver drove away I remember sunny winter sundays spent Shooting at the sun with my bb-gun Thinking, "this is the way that life should be Some birds, some bbs, my gun and me." But that isn't the way that life should be This is the way that life should be Guitars, drums, a mic and me The band, some roadies, electricity Blasting forth with a million watts of power The weak get sick and the timid all cower 'cause we're like a gun and we're taking aim Out music's the bullet, the target is your brain The guitar, like a laser, cuts through your head You drop to your knees and wish you were dead Than i grab the mic and i start to shout Your ear-drums burst and your brains drain out When the ba** kicks in, your bones are crushed Your eyes roll back as you get a rush Then the drums pound you right into the floor Now you're rotten to the core [lyrics: brecht]