1. |
The End Of The Line
03:27
|
|||
|
SNAKING IN THE SAND
WALTZING THROUGH THE CHAIN LINK FENCE
LIKE A MADMAN
LIKE A GHOST WITH THE MOST
TRYING TO STEAL A SOUL
I RISE FROM A GRAVE UNKNOWN
ONE LAST TOAST
TO THE DIRT IN MY TEETH, TO THE MEMORIES
MAYHAM ON THE STREET
NOW THE SPOTLIGHT BLINDS ME,
LOST ALL CONTROL, THEN IT HITS ME
THE END OF THE LINE
IM STANDING MY GROUND
LIKE A PHSYCO GACEY CLOWN
AND ITS GETTING ME NOTHING
IM TAKING SOMETHING
I GOTTA DO WHAT I GOTTA DO
I GOTTA GET HOME TO YOU
INSTEAD I MIGHT JUST BE DEAD
PUMPED FULL OF LEAD & JUSTICE
NOW THE CHERRIES BLIND ME
POINTED PISTOLS BLOW
LITTLE KISSES AT ME
ITS THE END OF THE LINE
AND IM SO FUCKED
YOUR THE ONLY ONE
WHO CAN SAVE MY GUTS
FROM THE INVITATION OF BULLETS
COME PICK ME UP BABY
IM ALL JACKED UP DOWNTOWN
WITH NO PLACE TO RUN
THE COPS ARE ALL AROUND ME
IM CALLING FROM A PAY PHONE
COVERED IN BLOOD HOLDING A GUN
ITS THE END OF THE LINE
FOR ME
|
||||
2. |
Lonely Slut
03:34
|
|||
|
LONELY SLUT
CAUSE IM THE BOOGYMAN
AND IM SO SICK
I GOT YELLOW FEVER MAN
FROM WATCHING TOO MANY
PORNO FLICKS,
MY MIND WILL START TO BLOW
MY ANIMOSITY WILL START TO SHOW
GREASE YOU UP TAKE OVER YOUR SKIN
LIKE THE SLUT I AM
I WANNA SIN SIN SIN
I AM A LONELY SLUT
I AM A DIRTY MUTT
I AM A LONELY SLUT
SLUT SLUT SLUT
CAUSE IM THE JUNKIE MAN
GET IT ANYWAY ANYWAY I CAN
PILL POPPIN HEART STOPPIN GIRL
I WILL DANCE DEEP INTO THE MORNING
I MIGHT FUCK BEFORE I KISS
I MIGHT BUST AND START TO LICK
I MIGHT DANCE TO THE CHATTER
OF MY TEETH AND THIER CLICK CLICK CLICK
SLUT
SLUT
SLUT
I AM A SLUT
AND IM PROUD OF IT
I AM SLIME, DIRT, GRIME
THROW U DOWN MAKE U MINE
MAKE U MINE
|
||||
3. |
Snakebite
02:10
|
|||
|
I KNEW WHEN YOUR LIPS TOUCHED THE GLASS
I KNEW IT THEN, YOU WERNT GONNA LAST
SLAMMED DOWN MY DRINK AND ACTED FAST
JUST IN TIME TO TAKE YOU HOME
AND LET YOU MAKE ME BREAKFAST
YOUR ASS
YOUR TITS
YOUR LIPS
YOUR HIPS
I HAD TO HAVE IT ALL
YOUR COMIN HOME WITH ME TONIGHT, THATS RIGHT
AND I GOT TO TELL YA ,IVE BEEN KNOWN TO BITE
I KNEW IT WHEN, IT WENT ALL NIGHT LONG
I STILL KNOW IT NOW SINGING THIS SONG
WHAT I DID MIGHT BE CONSIDERED WRONG
WHEN I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR SHIT AND MOVE ALONG
|
||||
4. |
Japanese Vending Machine
02:57
|
|||
|
GET WHAT I WANT
GET WHAT I NEED
GET WHATEVER I PLEASE
AUTOMATIC
SYSTEMATIC
LET ME HAVE IT
BATTERIES FOR MY MACHINES
LATEX FOR MY WET DREAMS
CHOP STIX AND SOME SUSHI
A COLD BEER IN THE EARLY MORNING
IM STUCK DEEP INSIDE A DAYDREAM
IM LOST IN THE TRAFFICS WAY OF THINKING
A PAIR OF DICE HOLD MY DESTINY
FUCK CALIFORNIA GIRLS,IM GOING JAPANESE
|
||||
5. |
High On Rabies
02:05
|
|||
|
MY TALE IS BETWEEN MY LEGS
IM YELPING IN AGONY
TERMITES SWIM THROUGH MY VEINS
I BATHE IN SATANIC FAITH
I AM NO LONGER A MAN
THE BEAST ATE THE BITCH
NO MORE BREEDING
EAT YOU UP ANY WAY I CAN
I HAVE BEEN INFECTED WITH BRUTALITY
YEAH
YEAH
YEAH
OH YEAH
BABY IM HIGH ON RABIES
I NEED TO SCRAPE A LITTLE TASTE
FROM THE TIP OF YOUR SWEET TOUNGE
JUST A LITTLE SCRAPE
JUST A LITTLE TASTE
|
||||
6. |
Dressed Like A Rat
02:54
|
|||
|
I SPEAK ONLY WHAT I KNOW
I BREATHE LIKE A GODDAMN UNDERTOW
I BREACH ALL OF THE RULES IN FRONT OF ME
I TEACH THE FINE ART OF DEBAUCHERY
HEY YOU, SIN CITY
I CAME FOR THE BITCHES AND THE MONEY
STRAIGHT SHOOTIN ,SIPPIN ON THE BUBBLY
ROLLIN UP AND SMOKIN EVERYBODY
DRESSED LIKE A RAT
UNDER ATTACK FROM THE DIESESE
DRESSED LIKE A RAT
WE COME FROM THE DARK SIDE OF TOWN
I REEK OF SELF SONIC ANARCHY
I SLEEP IN THE FILTH THAT THEY FAIL TO SEE
I SNEAK INTO PEOPLE'S LUNGS SO I CAN BREATHE
I BREED ONLY WITH THE MOST INFECTIOUS OF SEEDS
|
||||
Mad Atlas Toronto, Ontario
Mad Atlas .....face melter & mind ruler/ Singer / songwriter / Lyrical Crime ,,,Garage ,Punk, Rock , Toronto, Canada
If you like Mad Atlas, you may also like:
Rising Austrian band compliment phased-out garage rock shredding with eccentric synths and lo-fi drum loops.
go to album
Shybaby kicks out the jams on “Is This Intimate,” a snarling rock record that takes no prisoners.
go to album
The Australian punks return with another round of turbo-charged riffs and debauched themes; crack open a cold one and get ready to mosh.
go to album
If you like your post-punk pissed off, wound up, and kind of weird, this Cleveland group's glitchy anti-work opus might just be for you.
go to album
Jagged post-punk from Sydney captures the sound of the ’70s in its acute angled guitars and detacted vocals.
go to album
Revved-up and totally askew post-punk from Buffalo’s Ismatic Guru, with guitars that corkscrew like mad.
go to album
Lo-fi, scratchy, and somewhat vulgar punk rock straight out of Cincinnati, Ohio. Don't overthink it—they didn't.
go to album
