Текст песни First of May - Vents

May Day the first of the month
Get your charred carcass into market sqaure
Drop bombs at Gestapo
Yeh I'm still killing, stand on my own real feelin'
Dying on my feet while you still kneelin'
Both knees, 2 thou 6, no peace
24 years see police still run, die, try'na survive
Don't want nobody getting outta line
It's the five letter Vents reign of terror
Trials what you think of that?
([Trials] - Yeh we break whatever)
It's the overworked 'bout to go berserk
Making punks disappear like presto jerk
I lurk knee deep beneath the remains of
Broken dreams of fragile brains
I wrote growing pains as a joke
When you staring down the barrel of a world where they murder for a Coke
Now

Chill
We can give ya girl a little something she can feel
Vents on the war path, crews not a deal
Looking for a war better than a hot meal
Trials-like still
MURDER, DEATH, KILL.
We can give ya girl a little something she can feel
Vents on the war path, crews not a deal
Looking for a war better than a hot meal
MURDER, DEATH, KILL.
As the world celebrated, Vents One self-educated
Crews stayed tight and the buzz generated
Solidarity kinda tough to beat
And we under one flag
Dirty-rotten's thickest scum bag like Sid Vicious on skag
Hate to brag but damn I'm good
And you talk about quitting - yes man you should
But don't change the dial we the rank and file
Throwing rocks at a tank and the world banks staff
Like "Woooo". Check the classroom, 12 years of what
Sit there - SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Don't speak, a battle in the bandsaw beat
Better chill your test in the depths of both feet
No sleep, return of the man of rock
Without a clothing brand or Government stash
Now

We the Black September, will not surrender
Fingers stay burnt from the ember
Hair-trigger temper
Yeah pig offender
No you not searching the car
Seargent disturbed in the car
Leave me the fuck alone
I roll like Stallone in Cobra - feed alone
And how we supposed to sleep when your beds is burning
Pay my rent, get the bourbon
And drink 'till I really can't think no more
Year after year it's the same fucking war, for the same fucking dollar
Here today, gone tomorrow
Thoughts of death - six o'clock horror
Talked to me, thoughts of terror torture me
Tales of death villages told morbidly
I learned how to murder when I was a child
As six million flicks built a lot of fucking style
Now