Hellionaires - Trap Them

Preachers in the little deaths, they got what they’ve asked

They got an autumned hearse as it drove right by

And I all got together

And I all dropped together

And I all tossed and turned

As I drowned out my peace

I had my own little deaths

With my own little kinds

War is my mistress adore, the one that I’ve always had

War is the mainline mirage that fills what I can’t

In the eyes of the has-beens

In the trails of the animal cunts and I know

War is my mistress adore, the one that I’ve always had

War is the mainline mirage that feels what I can’t

War, war is my mistress adore that I’ve always had

War is the mainline that feels what I can’t

And when my bankrupt neck

And my skull full of debt can’t stand

I’m making my way towards death’s wooden door

And I’m bringing a fucking battering ram

I’ll bring a fucking battering ram

In the name

In the name of the kindred dirt

In the name of our failures

In the name of our failures well-earned

All of us has-beens

All of us animal cunts

All of us bleed in the name of all of us born

All of us born

With hellionaire blood