[Spoken]
Now we're in an age of mass casualty, action
Don't you just miss the good old days of the Red Army Faction?
All that combine, huff the blonde, picture of a bomb, pitching bitch
[?] can't reach that itch
Carlos the Jackal with the pimp tackle, the hand clapping, the ransacking
Now they're packing knapsacks with brass tacks and kidnapping
Excuse me, kid, it's too much for me
Could you just take this rucksack on the bus for me?
Yesterday my troubles seemed so far away
And now there's nothing left to do but watch the choices slip away
And all the voices ricochet
Our conversation disappears in recrimination
Voices ricochet
They're just words in the distance, like birds inside my head
And the water runs red
You're a stone on the windscreen, you shatter the world ahead
Voices ricochet
You can picture a big 'thirteen', try to extinguish me
Relinquish me from the damage
Only mortality
It's the echoes of carnage, now the view is all tarnished
The rest is just wreckage
The sky's a varnish, furnished with thoughts of flight
And the pain still visible in light and sound and sight
Now we're in an age of mass casualty, action
Don't you just miss the good old days of the Red Army Faction?
All that combine, huff the blonde, picture of a bomb, pitching bitch
[?] can't reach that itch
Carlos the Jackal with the pimp tackle, the hand clapping, the ransacking
Now they're packing knapsacks with brass tacks and kidnapping
Excuse me, kid, it's too much for me
Could you just take this rucksack on the bus for me?
Yesterday my troubles seemed so far away
And now there's nothing left to do but watch the choices slip away
And all the voices ricochet
Our conversation disappears in recrimination
Voices ricochet
They're just words in the distance, like birds inside my head
And the water runs red
You're a stone on the windscreen, you shatter the world ahead
Voices ricochet
You can picture a big 'thirteen', try to extinguish me
Relinquish me from the damage
Only mortality
It's the echoes of carnage, now the view is all tarnished
The rest is just wreckage
The sky's a varnish, furnished with thoughts of flight
And the pain still visible in light and sound and sight
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