Текст песни
We hit the road late last night
We wanted today to be tomorrow
Hung over and stressed out
Aint nothing I cant swallow
What are we about to undergo
Masochistic Mr. Van Gogh
When did we get in this UFO?
My oh my this planets sure size
Don't you know the lows are the highs?
Distopia
Distopia
I don't want no fairytale
I'd rather be poor sick and pale
Than a puppet on your strings
Only get what I want when I'm offering
Been close to the devils wings
Close enough to know he only sings one thing
A satanic serenade
The American
The American