Lyrics Retching On The Dirt - Napalm Death
I′m
retching
on
the
dirt,
it's
earthiness
coating
my
throat.
I′m
wincing
on
the
bitterest
pill.
I
refuse
to
swallow.
I'm
offered
the
warmth
of
a
velvet
glove,
an
iron
fist
to
some.
I'm
hounded
by
white
- right
might
that
wants
the
country
pure.
I′m
incensed
by
those
in
awe
of
"living
amongst
their
own".
Selective
perfection
will
cut
their
own
throats!
I′m
constantly
forcing
the
point,
but
we're
all
retching
on
dirt,
And
we′ll
choke
if
we
don't
spit
it
out!
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