Hellionaires

Preachers in the little deaths,
they got what they've asked.
They got an autumned hearse as it drove right by.
And I all got together
and I all dropped together
and I all tossed and turned
as I drowned out my peace.

I had my own little deaths
with my own little kinds.
War is my mistress adore,
the one that I've always had.
War is the mainline mirage
that fills what I can't.

In the eyes of the has-beens,
in the trails of the animal cunts
and I know my own little deaths.
War is my mistress adore
that I'll always have.
War is the mainline
that feels what I can't.

War is my mistress adore
that I'll always have.
War is the mainline
that feels what I can't.

And when my bankrupt neck and my skull full of debt can't stand.
I'm making my way towards death's wooden door
and I'm bringing a fucking battering ram...

I'll bring a fucking battering ram
in the name of the kindred dirt.
In the name of our failures,
in the name of our failures well-earned.
All of us has-beens, all of us animal cunts...
all of us bleed in the name of all of us born
with hellionaire blood.