Tekstovi I Pesme

Lite the match,
Burn the flower,
Leave behind,
All the wrong.
Why be sad?
Heaven
Modern day, prohibition!
Are we men?
Are we children?
At what age, can I choose.
How to live.
The only real problem is storing real good drugs.
Haven't we learned our lesson?
The corner store sells finer scotch.
But whose got a gun powder?
We trust in what is ours..
The country aint a big surprise, and I find it abused.
Then who the fuck are you to judge me