Bed-wetting punk rock trio from Seattle.
We're a trio from Seattle. We play punk rock: loud, hard, and fast. If you've heard The Clash, Screeching Weasel, or Social D, you know what we sound like.
Lyrics
There's blood on my hands; there's blood on my hands, in a foreign land, and I can't understand; no I can't -- oh, the bombs that we dropped, and the lives that it cost, and the hate that you make -- it just won't go away; and the lies that you told about the things that we know; and the rich, they profit, but the poor, they see fire in the sky; there's fire in the sky, and I don't know why -- what gave you the right? -- what gave you the bombs that we dropped, and the lives that it cost, and the hate that you make -- it just won't go away; and the lies that you told about the things that we know; and the rich, they profit, but the poor, they fear death from below; there's death from below, in the streets and the roads, and you can never go home -- in the streets with the bombs that we dropped, and the lives that it cost, and the hate that you make -- it just won't go away; and the lies that you told about the things that we know; and the rich, they profit, but the poor, they catch hell here on Earth; it's Hell here on Earth -- get what you deserve, face down in the dirt -- face down with the bombs that we dropped, and the lives that it cost, and the hate that you make -- it just won't go away; and the lies that you told about the things that we know; and the rich, they profit, but the poor, they fight for oil in the sand; there's oil in the sand.
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