The Target Lyrics
I Was Born In The Middle Of An Air RaidSince I Hit The Dirt, I Was On The RunThe Son Of A Gun And A SwitchbladeGot My Uzi Lying On My Bed StandI Made Napalm In My SinkPipe-Bomb In My Pants PocketI Just Put Cyanide In Your DrinkMic Stand's Always At My SideJack-Knife In My BootFully Automatic Machine-GunIs Loaded And Ready To ShootI Strayed Off The Beaten PathNow There's No Place To HideMy Sadness And My WrathContemplated SuicideSomewhere, Out Past NowhereI Lost My WayNo Money To Pay My FareThe Driver Drove AwayI Remember Sunny Winter Sundays SpentShooting At The Sun With My Bb-GunThinking, "This Is The Way That Life Should BeSome Birds, Some Bbs, My Gun And Me."But That Isn't The Way That Life Should BeThis Is The Way That Life Should BeGuitars, Drums, A Mic And MeThe Band, Some Roadies, ElectricityBlasting Forth With A Million Watts Of PowerThe Weak Get Sick And The Timid All Cower'Cause We're Like A Gun And We're Taking AimOut Music's The Bullet, The Target Is Your BrainThe Guitar, Like A Laser, Cuts Through Your HeadYou Drop To Your Knees And Wish You Were DeadThan I Grab The Mic And I Start To ShoutYour Ear-Drums Burst And Your Brains Drain OutWhen The Bass Kicks In, Your Bones Are CrushedYour Eyes Roll Back As You Get A RushThen The Drums Pound You Right Into The FloorNow You're Rotten To The CoreLyrics: Brecht
D.r.i The Target
