| Song | Lift The Veil, Kiss The Tank |
| Artist | The Blood Brothers |
| Album | Young Machetes |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Blood Brothers | |
| <here comes the man with concussions in his pocket. | |
| here comes the man with a laser-guided rocket. | |
| here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can kill with no remorse, | |
| with no recourse, dance on your conscience until it's a corpse. | |
| war never ends. | |
| war never begins. | |
| hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
| his mouth's an empty room where wild woes wander. | |
| young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
| his mouth's an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
| here comes the man. | |
| so you charge into battle, muscles rippling, tanks tingling. | |
| before you fire a shot a white flash feels up your flesh | |
| and cloaks you in a robe of blood, maydays you in a ship of mud. | |
| war never ends. | |
| war never begins. | |
| hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
| his mouth's an empty room where wild woes sleep sow. | |
| young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
| his mouth's an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
| they left you for dead in the desert haunted with the ghosts of prostitutes. | |
| they want you! | |
| they want you! | |
| dress my corpse up in a low-cut dress. | |
| drizzle lipstick on my charred french kiss. | |
| dip my severed jaw in cheap cologne, | |
| push-up bras dangling from snapped elbows. | |
| but death's just death no matter how you dress it up.> |
| zuo qu : Blood Brothers | |
| here comes the man with concussions in his pocket. | |
| here comes the man with a laserguided rocket. | |
| here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can kill with no remorse, | |
| with no recourse, dance on your conscience until it' s a corpse. | |
| war never ends. | |
| war never begins. | |
| hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
| his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes wander. | |
| young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
| his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
| here comes the man. | |
| so you charge into battle, muscles rippling, tanks tingling. | |
| before you fire a shot a white flash feels up your flesh | |
| and cloaks you in a robe of blood, maydays you in a ship of mud. | |
| war never ends. | |
| war never begins. | |
| hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
| his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes sleep sow. | |
| young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
| his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
| they left you for dead in the desert haunted with the ghosts of prostitutes. | |
| they want you! | |
| they want you! | |
| dress my corpse up in a lowcut dress. | |
| drizzle lipstick on my charred french kiss. | |
| dip my severed jaw in cheap cologne, | |
| pushup bras dangling from snapped elbows. | |
| but death' s just death no matter how you dress it up. |
| zuò qǔ : Blood Brothers | |
| here comes the man with concussions in his pocket. | |
| here comes the man with a laserguided rocket. | |
| here comes the man with a fistful of pills so you can kill with no remorse, | |
| with no recourse, dance on your conscience until it' s a corpse. | |
| war never ends. | |
| war never begins. | |
| hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
| his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes wander. | |
| young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
| his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
| here comes the man. | |
| so you charge into battle, muscles rippling, tanks tingling. | |
| before you fire a shot a white flash feels up your flesh | |
| and cloaks you in a robe of blood, maydays you in a ship of mud. | |
| war never ends. | |
| war never begins. | |
| hoist up the hag of destitution! | |
| his mouth' s an empty room where wild woes sleep sow. | |
| young machetes in lingerie charm us all into a frenzy. | |
| his mouth' s an empty hole full of quadriplegics. | |
| they left you for dead in the desert haunted with the ghosts of prostitutes. | |
| they want you! | |
| they want you! | |
| dress my corpse up in a lowcut dress. | |
| drizzle lipstick on my charred french kiss. | |
| dip my severed jaw in cheap cologne, | |
| pushup bras dangling from snapped elbows. | |
| but death' s just death no matter how you dress it up. |