Soldiers E

Our hair is long and our looks matter and Are hopeful eyes. Our clothes are torn to pieces, asking for pain. We will revolutionize the leather, cut with both a Pant and rag. Our souls belong to Satan, Master of our fate. Bang your heads against the stage. Dive in the thrashing crowd. We mosh. We are lords, we are aliens, we are proud. Heavy is our music, fast and loud. Yeah! Weekend and the concert, the band begins to play. After all the tracks and beer our reason's blown Away. A poser in the background holds and bangs his Head. His hot dress there will light fires until He's nearly dead. Yeah. We drink beer without care because we are possessed By sodomy. Cursed and cursed, we party and yell For hundreds and thousands days. Just to hide and smell your own musical ability. We are sure that our favorite band has best Played anything. Bang your heads against the stage. Dive in the thrashing crowd. We mosh. We are lords, we are aliens, we are proud. Heavy is our music, fast and loud