Текст песни King Mob - The Damage Manual
King
mob
in
a
plastic
iceberg
Smoking
water
damaged
cigarettes
Observe
as
he
works
your
wasteland
Pulling
punches
that
you
never
met
Controlled
in
a
listless
air
stream
Jets
are
breathing
in
his
latex
eyes
True
to
form,
he
is
scared
to
touch
them
And
your
wasteland
stays
vandalized
Success
in
a
cut
glass
wardrobe
All
the
clothes
loose
like
shredded
hair
Dream
escapes
to
a
closet
class
war
King
mob
in
a
smashed
wheel
chair
Nerve
gas
for
the
walking
wounded
Suffocating
in
a
sadists'
prayer
Flaming
horses
on
a
fading
landscape
Break
the
surface
but
there
is
no
air
King
mob
as
he
vents
his
anger
Throws
a
brick
through
the
city
gates
Backfires
on
his
wordless
offspring
The
population
disintegrates
Cold
stream
plus
a
wash
of
carbon
Drives
his
mind
like
an
engine
room
Cogs
turning
like
a
flawed
stage
whisper
King
mob
sings
a
lifeless
tune
Surface
stop
Pressure
drop
King
mob
Faded
wrists
and
the
risks
worth
taking
Cleans
his
blade
with
dreams
he
froze
Metal
moments
fed
on
foreign
textures
Breaks
his
mind
with
the
things
he
knows
King
mob
at
his
withered
console
Electric
arcades
run
on
secret
oils
Flicks
a
switch
and
he's
the
God
of
anger
Pulls
a
handle
and
the
wasteland
spoils
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