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letra de i wanna see it burn - days n' daze

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[verse 1]
i wanna see it burn
the wasted mind, the plastic world
with all the substance sucked out
what’s the point
of shoveling coal into a furnace
in a vessel with a tear in the hole
when every forming eyes infected with
some p-rnographic nightmare
growing, p-ssing on the ashes
of the ones who set the stage

[chorus]
it seems this realization’s esoteric
when art’s only about a profit
what’s cheap to make and satisfies the rotting mind
when partying and getting laid
become the first priorities
unnoticed goes the cavalcade of tragedy
we’re just waiting for the bomb

[verse 2]
mainstream music, television, fashion
it’s just a distraction (x6)
to keep you from noticing
the innocent buried in your front lawn
the fragments of bone
beneath the white picket fences
cue the moral guidelines
to fit the current profitable trends
with all the feeling gone
you can barely call it art
the wild ones would never walk into the bullet
but to fit the mold
we would cut our hearts out
lead the cash cow to the slaughter
we ache for something real

[verse 3: juicy kark-ss]
the emptiness tempts me, i feel paranoid
with millions of noises, i still hear its voice
try to numb it, avoid it, to k!ll it or poison it
’till it’s destroyed but it still doesn’t fill up the void
it always feels like something’s missing
but i don’t know what it is and i’m stuck in this tunnel vision
while there’s millions of children still sick and hunger-stricken
i’m just sitting back and waiting for these f-ckin’ drugs to kick in
as the plot just thickens, the clock is ticking away
and the cost of living is raised, but not the minimum wage
and i’m so sick of this bas-m-nt i’ve been sitting for days in
with a loaded revolver and this abyss that i gaze in
and the chasm gazing back is awful hard to distinguish
from the darkness once the spark inside my heart is extinguished
so i’ll relinquish my convictions in the face of resistance, i mean
dead or alive, it really doesn’t make any difference, it seems

[chorus] (x2)
it seems this realization’s esoteric
when art’s only about a profit
what’s cheap to make and satisfies the rotting mind
when partying and getting laid
become the first priorities
unnoticed goes the cavalcade of tragedy
we’re just waiting for the bomb

[outro]
we’re just waiting for the bomb (x3)

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