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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
Drowning in dog stew and strangled in vine. Blister wine burns the inside . . . (They flew in a line over poppy fields. They'd drop and they'd blast their supply. On demand! They persist. They pervert. They command: "RED alert." And green burns to yellow, to orange, to dirt covered baby bones in powder piles. Mile after mile. And a line costs a dime. A slaughter's a quarter. Yes, the Green God's immortal, whispers "Peace in our time." RED alert! Here come the Green Gang . . . . |