Artist: Rival Sons
Album: The Grammys
Generals gathered in their masses,
Just like witches at black masses
Evil minds that plot destruction,
Sorcerer of death’s construction
In the fields the bodies burning,
As the war machine keeps turning
Death and hatred to mankind,
Poisoning their brainwashed minds
Oh Lord yeah
Politicians hide themselves away
They only started the war
Why should they go out and fight?
They leave that role for the poor, oh!
Finished with my woman
’cause she couldn’t help me with my mind
People think I’m insane
because I am frowning all the time
All day long I think of things
but nothing seems to satisfy
Think I’ll lose my mind if I don’t
find something to pacify
Can you help me, occupy my brain?