Immigrant - Sex Gang Children

Laugh out loud as I spit in your face

Show no respect for the consumer day knave

Little man I’ve had a busy day

Stand out from the crowd with your motions of grace

Contort your face till you look out of place

Contort your race till you’re blue in the face

Heads turn around, Anatolia kiss the ground

Money, fortune and fame, throw grenades

Well I spit in your face

Well throw a grenade

I’m losing fast, hey-ho!

down we go, hey-ho!

Shake to the rhythm of a gnomic quatrain

Till your body is bleeding all over again

Raise your glass to the virgin and the whore

Spreading your body all over the floor

I’m leading the life I’ve never lived before

And don’t walk around with mud on your face

Look at you now you’re a total disgrace

You’re telling me, you look out of place

Heads turn around, Anatolia kiss the ground

Money, fortune and fame, throw a grenade

Well I spit in your face

Well throw a grenade

Smashing the store, killing the can

Scheming for the mother re-union plan

Oh I talked and I talked of things that didn’t matter

like a fish in batter, and mad as a hatter

So they say you reap as you sow

Moving with grace, live in disgrace

You’re telling me, you look out of place

And your name sounds almost religious

Like a book for those who are serious

Like a tranquiliser for those delirious

Heads turn around, Anatolia kiss the ground

Money, fortune and fame, throw a grenade

Well I spit in your face

Well throw a grenade

Well I spit in your face

Well throw a grenade