November 12, 2015


This is a message for the angels: This is the demons at your door
and we're all waiting for an answer. You can bet we won't be ignored
Why did you let this bullshit happen? Where did we fuck up along the line?
Won't you tell us? Probably not, you have no spine

You can bet we'll shake these gates until they fall,
and you can bet we'll cut your heads off one and all
Cause you cut our party short now and it's time to prove something to you:
Us sinners don't take kindly to last call

This is a message for the angels: You've got a breach of security
All the snarling at your gates is from the people you set free
with your insistence that you leave us alone to fend for ourselves
And now it's your turn to take your weapons off your shelves

Your brainless god should take some time, climb off his throne,
and give us all an explanation of his own
We want our whiskey bottles back now, our guitars and amplifiers,
because this night ain't over until we say it's done

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