Paroles de The British Disease
With the world on its kneesAnd the British diseased
I'll stumble forward
I will offer my hand
My intentions are grand
Bring your firearms on board
We will give you more
No promise broken
Will be forgotten
Now the cynical few
Rise above me and you
From street to seashore
Do we get what we're due
Can I take my cue
From those still adored?
We will give more
No promise broken
Will be forgotten
No blind devotion
No lies forgiven
I guarantee
No promise broken
Will be forgotten
Now the cynical few
Rise above me and you
From street to seashore
Do we get what we're due
Can I take my cue
From those still adored?
We will give more
No promise broken
Will be forgotten
No blind devotion
No lies forgiven
I guarantee
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