Mgmt

Evil S I yes to find a shore,
A beach that doesn't quiver anymore,
Where we can crush some plants to paint my walls,
And I won't try to fight in the weekend wars
Was I? I was to lazy to bathe
Or paint or write or try to make a change.
Now I can shoot a gun to kill my lunch
And I don't have to love or think too much
Instant battle plans written on the sidewalk
Mental mystics in a twisted metal car
Tried to amplify the sound of light and love
Christ is cursed of faders and maders
Might even take a knife to split a hair
Or even scare the children off my lawn
Giving us time to make the makeshift bombs