1. |
The Storm
02:24
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2. |
Atlantic City
04:07
|
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3. |
Uh Oh
04:30
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|
How low, how low?How low the mighty have fallen
Oh how they've fall..
With fists of rage and desperation for survival
There's no survival of the great downfall
And what it seems to be
It seems to me uh-oh
Nothing really matters, baby.
Nothing's that important when you've got nothing left but your soul.
God made the rain and he made those grounds of that great me
And they do greet, greet me so sweetly.
With hands of fists, and eyes of cringe to brave the weather.
That cold, cold weather chills me completely
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4. |
Half-Breed
04:43
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Nobody likes me
I ain't got no friends
The bars are all open
But no one invites me in
Been getting kicked around
Since I was a kid
A no good ugly bastard
Living dead
Cause' I'm a half-breed, baby
Yeah, you know I ain't no good to you.
Well I'm a half-breed, baby
That's alright, cause' your a half-breed, too.
They see me coming
But they don't say a peep
Ain't nobody like to talk
To no low-life creep
I get high-strung
Can't stop counting sheep
I'm a neurotic mother fucker
I don't get no sleep
There's a preacher man with a crucifix in hand
Talking about something pure
I see your social class with your cults and clans
But I just ain't so sure
That I want any part of that cop-out plot
I think your all just running scared
Without your crowd you ain't so loud
And then it hits you self-aware
We're all half-breeds
Nothings pure
It's a sick, sick world
There is no cure
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