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• Artiste: Mad Sin
• Titre: Morbid Times
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Sometimes I think about your life I like to cut your throat with a kitchen knife Politics who twist the truth, just tell lies, drive me insane I hate your guts, don't wanna fake, I can't get the repulsion out of my brain You name religion but just bring war I spit on you, that's what you hate me for You are the pope, the biggest snake, we hate you, don't need to fake Your fall will be the day, the day I see the light I'm dying in morbid times and i was born in morbid times We are all the chessmen in their game Called moneymaking and big fame Rock'n'roll Rock'n'roll Rock'n'roll the only way out That's a fact, that's a fact, there is no doubt about