Bossanova

Run for your life 
Blood is on the hook 
Blood is on the hook

Hey 
Your lips are cracked and black as sorrow 
Hey 
Your soul is cold as ice

Eat your sin 
Confess your crime 
Choke on your greed 
Swallow it down

I want torture 
Arms and corporations 
No control, president or parliament 
Feed my hunger with poverty 
Feed my anger with children 
Feed my lust with bikini food 
Feed my ego with luxury 
I’m having a good time 
And I want my nation to break down

Place your heart 
In a golden cup 
Greet your victims 
With a smile

Eat the dust 
Of the frozen souls 
Cold-blooded mind 
Of a cannibal
 [bad word]  [bad word]  [bad word]