paroles de chanson Dry Rub - Salty

Suburban zombies on their fitness parades
They clog the road with psychic barricades
The condos clump inside the urban glue
Another day on Troost Avenue
You don't care, you're uncaring
Dry rub on the womb (wound)
Baste the children in a sea of panic
And swallow them down your tomb
You won your crown and now you stomp through the town
Trumpeting tantrums until it's crumbling down
Who owns the ball club, who owns the streets?
A city of smokers serving up human meats