Tekster:
The Adverts Crossing The Red Sea With The Adverts

suck, I swallow you whole. String out the drip-feed, they're losing their world, They're losing their hard boys and magazine girls. Advert illegal,

We say don't show your guns, if you don't intend to fight We say don't sleep all day, if you can't keep awake at night Don't screw it up. Don't be a

Life's short, don't make a mess of it. To the ends of the earth, you'll look for a sense in it. No chances, no plans. I'll smash the windows of my box

re going to see what punks can do. I stole some tunes from the radio. I lost my nerve but it didn't show. I found some friends with a little faith. Less

I wonder what we'll play for you tonight. Something heavy or something light. Something to set your soul alight. I wonder how we'll answer when you say

feel like I'm at sea. The plank's beneath my feet. Inevitably we two must meet again. But they're going to extremes. They're feeling quite at ease. They fight with

I'm lying in a hospital, I'm pinned against the bed. A stethoscope upon my heart, A hand against my head. They're peeling off the bandages. I'm wincing