Letra de March Of The Zug

March Of The Zug : There's a slow moving train Rolling through the rain, And a man with a hammer Who is writhing around. A certain school of thieves Are watching from the trees. They're counting their splinters Before they leap to the ground. The sun's dying rays Ripping through the haze Have betrayed the Technicolor Madness in their eyes... The Easy Street Sons of Kings Are fucking with everything, Now Spoonboy the Madpisser Has escaped into the night. The Sultans of the Swine Are turning fish into wine. They whisper their mantras to the gods of the Right. The moon's lunar phase Lends venom to the craze That detonates like tidal waves Tearing through their minds... The bitches of the drain Are fiending for the rain That just cripples up their minds With its spastic display. An accessory to their trade Poor Old Phineas Gage Pleads to keep his faculties, But is destined to fail. The science of the sane Has crumbled from the strain Of trying to find a back door From this landscape of Hell.