You got the skills of a bended retard, who's mean,
in front of guys who're trying, you're still lying.
Your writing looks like fiction, no rules, your
kingdom's living easy, you're still teasin'.
You work at night in gloomy wastelands, this
business is, you made us cryin', a chance is dyin'.
No clearness in your stories, you just invent,
which band is boring, without a story.
You take our pride away, insult the crowd.
Right, wrong where do we belong
the phantom of despise, wagged his tongue too
long.
Right, wrong where does he belong
the phantom of despise, wagged his tongue too
long. You take our pride away, insult the crowd.
Right, wrong where do we belong
the phantom of despise, wagged his tongue too
long.
Right, wrong where does he belong
the phantom of despise, wagged his tongue too
long.
Right, wrong where do we belong
the phantom of despise, wagged his tongue too
long.
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
