Bassem Sabry

Look at our electric guitars And, if not for the good people weeping All we'd hear is sounds of our horses dying But I'm not 'bout to start crying about it It must be fairly normal To devolve into cycloptic brooding As the genocidal massacres you rubbed Over some perceived sedition Insecurities of men messing everything up again (Oh, a show wrote in sparrow in the gales, only) I'll never follow no kind of master's voice The mutinous tramp of cold voltage crucifiction is my conduit I just watched my hero fail Now I'm in a dark and violent funk Every leader is a cellophane punk If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) There must be a softer vision that you could kick to In this aureate gloom, I assume Both sides are embarrassingly backwards in their thinking Bearing no one to side with, none I want to defend (So the mute-minded search, silly in love) People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution When they resurface, there's a black hole in their skull People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution When they'll return, all their childhood memories are dead I'll never follow no kind of master's voice The mutinous tramp of cold vulture crucifiction is my conduit I just watched my hero fail Now I'm in a dark and violent funk Every leader is a cellophane punk If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) I'll never follow no kind of master's voice The mutinous tramp of cold voltage crucifiction is my conduit Yeah! I believe in witches I believe in you I believe in witches I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you I believe in witches I believe in you I believe in witches I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you