From The Recordings Html

Lyrics

I’m tired of all that,
I’m tired of all that
I’m tired of the talks about talks about talks
While the guns have their say

I’m sick to the teeth
Yeah I’m sick to the teeth
Some men are so ill they can butcher and kill
For what they believe

I cried when I read,
there’s a boy nearly dead
They shot him with holes and then broke a few bones
Aren’t you tough men.

Did you dream in your sleep?
Do you dream in your sleep?
You left him half dead and you went home to bed
Your wife brushed your coat
And she made you some toast
Can you hear him moan

Men without souls
Men without souls
The whole world is filled with them
Dragging their filth with them
Madmen will kill for them
And their mothers still feel for them
Men without souls