Bang and blare these sweaty prayers. Feed your skull. We're accidents, whores and wrecks. You're not alone. We are fucked 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 fucked 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.