Letras
Bats flew up from the hell of hells
In the flames of the trice
Where the socialites feed in the mixed breed
They are names with a price
Alien parts breed no provenance
With their lost extraneous bank slips
Still they locate in the shops they hate
To hear Faust explaining his hot lips
Now the hive is so alive
Beneath the buzz of counter buzz
I see them run, I see them hide
Their useless palms down to their side
It's alright
Alright
Alright
Alright