The Last Supper

in my head there are pockets of madness
carpet-bombed swathes of land
this is my vietnam

this is a wonderful, riveting day to go
a trip for life, so to speak
a rendezvous with old nick
in my head, give me head, go ahead
in my head, feign you're dead, motorhead
i'm your private bateman
bespoke marquis de sade
i'm your loving father
hey, let me tuck you in!

never again, and then again
never again, and then again
i hold the fort
i held the fort
i hear the voice again

we call on you; we call on you to die!
we call on you, we call on you!
gently my self explodes
my brain is blown to pieces
i found my way, i found my way
my way
i found my way, i found my way
trees of green i see, red roses too, i see them bloom
we call on you; we call on you to die!
we call on you, we call on you!
how would you like to dine tonight?
how would you like to die tonight?

in my case there is nothing more to appeal
all is set,
here we go,
c'est fini
say goodbye
in the chair, oh my dear, how's my hair?
i'm the chair of this chair
i'm king lear
such a great performance
cnn is here tonight!
are you feeling sheepish?

did the jury get it right?

maybe we're right, or we're wrong
maybe we're right, or we're wrong
i'm in the clear
wish i were
i hear the voice again



Credits
Writer(s): Ronny Flissundet, Torgrim Torve, Fredrik Ryberg, Kristian Liljan, John Birkeland Hansen, Asmund Brun Snortheim, Ole Alexander Lislerud
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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