Da Deuce doesn’t Believe in God (Edit 2)’10

RELEASEZ / ИЗДАНИЯ:
Da Disco Clownz from hell – Pt 1 – Da Songz’12 (4LP)Da Disco Clownz from hell – Pt 2 – Da Remixez’12 (4LP)

LYRICZ: Manolov, Siderov
ТЕКСТ: Манолов, Сидеров

Версията на “Frank” и BurRow:

Версията на Mokushi:

Версията на Ivashkin:

You say you wanna be the rock and roll king and burn as a mighty supernova star.
You wanna drive a gleaming fancy car, yeah, but can you really play guitar.
A single chord’s enough to get to the Billboard charts no matter that you sing so bad.
My name is Lucifer, let me be your lord. So give your soul to dad.

Stay on your feet, don’t be such a misfit and don’t pretend you don’t give a shit.
To look like Ozzy and to bark at the moon is to turn into a massive hit.
This is the way to live your life as play and to fuck the groupies all the day.
White powder shimmers on your credit card and you throw a psycho fit.

John Lennon is dead.
Elvis Presley is dead.
Janis Joplin is dead.
Jim Morrison is dead.
John Bonham is dead.
Jimi Hendrix is dead.
Ritchie Valens is dead.
But you blockhead are not yet and…

Deep down squeezing thru entrails the same virus bones your life.
No, this time it’s not just a feeling – the plague that racks you inside…

Oh my God you’re such a worthless asshole, but now a you’re a celebrity.
Stay grounded man. Without the help from the Devil you will remain a wannabe.
You drown yourself in tanks of alcohol, you’re swamped in filth and vanity and now
Your soul falls into the hole, but this has no effect on me…

Sid Vicious is dead.
Kurt Cobain is dead.
Freddy Mercury is dead.
Cozy Powell is dead.
Bon Scott is dead.
Eric Carr is dead.
Joey Ramone is dead.
But you blockhead are not yet…

Deep down squeezing thru entrails the same virus bones your life.
No, this time it’s not just a feeling – the plague that racks you inside…

Come on, put the gun to your throat. The deuce doesn’t believe in God.
Now your corpse is beaten in details, so let your soul fly
So fucking high in the blue sky.

And now you hate to be so very great and it’s time for you to pay me the rate.
Do you remember ’bout the deal with Satan? You tell me no but it’s too late.
Swallow the barrel man and pull the trigger. I’m sorry that I stole your faith ha ha ha.
Or maybe overdose instead of the lead. I don’t care. Burst your empty head.

Michael Hutchens is dead.
Frank Zappa is dead.
Ian Curtis is dead.
Layne Staley is dead.
Ronnie Dio is dead.
Dimebag Darrell is dead.
Michael Jackson is dead.
But you blockhead are not yet so…

Deep down squeezing thru entrails the same virus bones your life.
No, this time it’s not just a feeling – the plague that racks you inside…

Come on, put the gun to your throat. The deuce doesn’t believe in God.
Now your corpse is beaten in details, so let your soul fly high.
So let your soul fly high, so let your soul fly high…

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