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A Warehouse Full Of Mailbombs, And Not One Fucking Stamp letra
Fuck your speeches to me of sacrifice, or anything I believed in, (of inspiration) end of fucking change. Your two hour rants on who we all should blame. Deaf to this world, and dead in my eyes, I watch as another toy soldier dies. Fuck your revolution.
And if you didn't hear me, we'll scream it once again. (and again and again). One fucking song doesn't start the fucking riot. It doesn't matter how many kids buy it. Fingers in the air.
(gun to the head) The one's who screamed for a change? They're the ones all fucking dead. Your t-shirts, your pins, your patches won't work. They all won't win this war. So far from over, so far from done.
Fuck your message boards, nothing's fucking won. So fuck you. Talk of broken bones, let's talk of blood on the floor. Let's talk of all those days gone by and how we strive for more. Talk of anything. Anything but your fucking revolution. We throw these words away like the time that we've wasted.
And a fest every weekend, is not 'inspiration' I'm not buying this, and I'm not dying here. I'm not part of your empire. The broken streetlights don't need to be fixed for us to see the kids are burning alive. I've said it before, I'll say it again. I'll say it till the day I fucking die. Fuck your Revolution.
(Are you using these fests, this merch table, these songs to sell your revolution? Or are you another in a long line of bullshit artists that is here to make a quick buck? It's getting harder to tell which is which. You can't keep a poker face forever, champ.)
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Backstabbers Incorporated - Letras
- A Warehouse Full Of Mailbombs, And Not One Fucking Stamp
- And Your Good Friend Is Your Spacegoat
- Ask, Answer
- Be All End All (File Under Hostility v3.0)
- Burn Small Talk to the Fucking Ground
- Concrete Evidence Supporting The Educational Value of Snuff Films (when It's a Secret That Everyone Knows)
- Distortion, Please
- Even Slaves Will Be Swimming in the Blood of the Iron Fist
- Film Noir's Got Nothing on Us
- Flesh Wounds Target Practice And How I Became A Statistic
- Hair And Nails, Nails And Hair (Don't Kiss The Rapist)
- I Don't Care How Many Times You've Seen Fight Club, You Are Not Tyler Durden
- I Say Kill The Killers
- I Wish You Were Here (So I Could Tell You To Leave)
- I'll Cut My Hair When You Pick Up That Name You Dropped
- If You Can See the End, It's Already Over
- Like Virgin Vinyl... in Bed
- New Hampshire Doesn't Treat Me The Way It Used To
- Nine Scabs Revisited
- Priests in Boys, Cardinals in Denial
- Problem Solving Techniques Of An Asshole
- Right On Man...And Once We're Done Bombing Those Fuckers, Let's Go Back To My House And Rub
- SB2K Mosh Anthem
- Send Me A Fucking Blitzkrieg
- Sergeant Gun In Mouth Reporting For Duty
- So Who's Doing Your Dishes This Week,Pretty Boy?
- Sometimes Mothers Look Like Lambs Being Led To The Slaughter
- Still Photos Exemplifying Blind Rage
- Suicide Song For The Small Town Purple Heart Recipient
- The Inevitable Anthem
- Upon Completing Your Applicaiton To The Club of Indifference
- We Attack at Dusk
- What If He Shouts Back? (The Anti-Tortured Souls Campaign)
- You Brought This on Yourself
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