Noise,It's my own and private secret garden
a dark and serious land i dont wanna shareit's all in tension, spit and violence,and not a fuckin danceflourhow, how can you stand a drummer dressed as a banana on stageit's fucking killing meshow me some mean and cold face musicians,
yelling at people,keeping it realaaaah, Time is running out and iaaaaaaaah , i've got to feed my family

Thought i was light years ahead of themBut i was blind they were only milesLight years ahead of them, he must be right
I was only pretending to be just another wannabeA love supreme in flip flopsThere might be peacocks in disguiseYou’d better practice your passing shotsBeware of bishops dealing with their ups and downs
You were born in Christchurch babyListen to the bellsThey’re ringing again in your earsThey resound in the eveningThey resound when you’re youngThey’re sound in the morningThey resound when you’re getting old/get things done