or
Lamb of God

Stomping lines in international sand,
Feeding blood drinking habits of the Elephant Man.
Quench his thirst, when black water rises
He takes you around toward the burning horizon

Yeah, motherfucker, lets take a ride,
We're rollin' round irate, someone has got to die
Trick or Treat, in dying need
So roll the dice as we leave,
Cause it's 8 miles of pure luck with warm bags of

Guaran-fucking-teed,
Someone will bleed.
Guaran-fucking-teed,
Someone will bleed.

Privatize to conceal all the lies,
Big Business is booming, like its the fourth of July.
No need for all the formalities, Jump the kangaroo corpse,
And flank beneath the trees.

Yeah, motherfucker, lets take a ride,
Running red lights in a green zone,
Someone has got to die.
(Pity me?) there's nothing here to see,
So throw the dice for me please, and let's
Store the pint of blood to cash in to refund

Guaran-fucking-teed,
Just sign the deed.
Guaran-fucking-teed,
Someone will bleed.

Someone has got to die.
Ours is not to reason why
Ours is but to do if the pay rate's right.
Black liquid assets, fuck the Mujahideen,
Paint their picket fences Red with the American dream.

Lay your heavy hammer down,
Get the job done right.
Jacked up, and cocked in, to a firefight.
Covert reactions said you never saw me.
A glass parking lot in the American Dream.
Yeah.

They all die.
Fucking Murder.

Guaran-fucking-teed, Someone will bleed.
Lay your heavy hammer down,
Get the job done right.
Jacked up, and cocked in, to a firefight.
Covert reactions said you never saw me.
A glass parking lot in the American Dream.

Written by BLYTHE, DAVID RANDALL / MORTON, MARK / ADLER, WILL / CAMPBELL, JOHN / ADLER, CHRIS
Published by Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.