There's a war, there's a clash of sorts Dead ahead It's foreign but it's real Knock, knock, knock There it sits taxing every move Your world son So either get your gun or clean theirs With the neck of your ego on the chopping block Sugar memories bring you back to a time when Your loudest care was a high chair Not a number or a name for you to make This is it âcause luck moved out last week No more camp So shine your saber well Before you kill a panzer tank with it Like you told everyone you would Good bye Bend and spread or be dead with no history So live for the luxuries Cause you can't be a person with your head iced off.
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