Songtexte
They
say
they
like
it,
now,
but
in
the
market
it
May
not
go
well
as
it's
too
laid
back.
You
need
some
oomph-papa,
nothing
like
Frank
Zappa
And
not
New
Wave
they
don't
play
that
crap
Tyr
beating
your
head
on
a
brick
wall
Hard
like
a
stone
Don't
have
time
for
the
music
They
want
the
blood
from
a
clone
I
hear
a
clock
ticking
I
feel
the
nitpicking
I
almost
quit
kicking
at
the
wall
There
seems
a
confusion,
under
the
illusion
That
they
know
just
what
will
suit
you
all
Beating
my
head
on
a
brick
wall
Hard
like
a
stone
Ain't
got
time
for
the
music
They
want
the
blood
from
a
clone
There
is
no
sense
to
it
Pure
pounds
and
pence
to
it
They're
so
intense
too
makes
me
amazed
Don't
want
no
music
but,
they're
making
you
Sick
with
Some
awful
noises
that
may
get
played
By
beating
their
heads
on
a
brick
wall
Hard
like
a
stone
Ain't
no
messing
'round
with
music
Give
them
the
blood
from
a
clone
Where
will
it
all
lead
us
I
thought
we
had
freed
us
From
the
mundane
seems
I'm
wrong
again
Could
be
they
lack
roots,
they're
still
wearing
Jack
boots
they're
Marching
somewhere
in
the
pouring
rain
Beating
my
head
on
a
brick
wall
Hard
like
a
stone
Don't
have
time
for
the
music
They
want
the
blood
from
a
clone
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