Post-Punk
A strung out DJ spins free of alarm
Like a violent kick drum
Deadbeats push the rohypnol hard
Dosing with Western excess
Splayed and writhe on the ground
Oblivious to dissent
Blood lust of a militant crowd
Sweltering Indo nights
Someone has to pay the price
Just some Aussie kids overseas
They don't really know anything
Extremes pray to the God of East
Praying for divine release
From the squalor of these Eastern slums
They don't really know anything
Tragically
The irony stands all alone
"Peace" you seek in blood of the meek
Common sounds of mourning crowds
Allies are dead
Families see red
Suicide bombs
Are modern psalms
A strung out DJ painted in pink mist
From the bombers pallet
Strapped to a militant's chest
Like a violent kick drum
Shock wave hits the stage
Dance to a deadly rhythm
Dance with a mind enslaved
Sweltering Indo nights
Someone has to pay the price
Just some Aussie kids overseas
They don't really know anything
Extremes pray to the God of East
Praying for divine release
From the squalor of these Eastern slums
They don't really know anything
Tragically
Irony comes alone
"Peace" you seek
In blood of the meek comes at a price
In wailing sounds
Of mourning crowds and reddened eyes
Like a violent kick drum
Deadbeats push the rohypnol hard
Dosing with Western excess
Splayed and writhe on the ground
Oblivious to dissent
Blood lust of a militant crowd
Sweltering Indo nights
Someone has to pay the price
Just some Aussie kids overseas
They don't really know anything
Extremes pray to the God of East
Praying for divine release
From the squalor of these Eastern slums
They don't really know anything
Tragically
The irony stands all alone
"Peace" you seek in blood of the meek
Common sounds of mourning crowds
Allies are dead
Families see red
Suicide bombs
Are modern psalms
A strung out DJ painted in pink mist
From the bombers pallet
Strapped to a militant's chest
Like a violent kick drum
Shock wave hits the stage
Dance to a deadly rhythm
Dance with a mind enslaved
Sweltering Indo nights
Someone has to pay the price
Just some Aussie kids overseas
They don't really know anything
Extremes pray to the God of East
Praying for divine release
From the squalor of these Eastern slums
They don't really know anything
Tragically
Irony comes alone
"Peace" you seek
In blood of the meek comes at a price
In wailing sounds
Of mourning crowds and reddened eyes
Credits
Writer(s): Roberto Lorusso
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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