Future Lionheart

Living each night for the morning after, in the rush to be tagged and be seen
with the best of boys. Propped up like a wounded soldier between two grinning
pillars, on the way back from a jager bombed, fish bowl front line.
I liked you better when you punched my face, I liked you better when you were
all fingers and thighs and the worst kind of dirty talk, rushing towards
another sexual misadventure,
LOOK WITH YOUR EYES AND NOT YOUR HANDS!
Keep them drunk and keep them dumb,
an old solution for the young,
its hard to fight with your hands by your side.
Does this city ever sleep, the walking dead can have no sleep,
just marching single file towards the grave.
We’re the generation with nothing to die for.
We’re the generation with nothing to die for.
Keep one picture locked away, a portrait of a devils face,
Dorian would blush if he saw it.
Welcome to the hangover, the smell of sulphur fills the air,
we’re marching single file towards the grave.
We’re the generation with nothing to die for.
We’re the generation with nothing to die for.
Angles sounding out their horns will fly into the thunder storm,
if this is not a judgement I’ll be damned.