Alba s touto skladbou:
The Big Dirty,
Marched from a burning ship
into a rained out parade
With a bottle and a bible the dregs
are armed to the teeth.
We traded distinction
and praise for the tedious claim
that we were wed in the trenches
while college boys pine
for loveless exchange.
We carry the fragments
from detonated eyes embedded
under our bones.
We've spilled blood for the sake
of fitting skin to the frame
but our moneys is no good
here and our memorial has veered off the road.
The locals will bury my wandering eyes
at the docks of the potters field
where the rifles of ranking men
are equipped with 21 silencers.
At 'em boys. Give 'er the gun.
At 'em boys. Give 'er the gun.
I'm the richest man in town.
I'm the richest man in town.
Faith, stand down.
give your wings to the boredom
that resurrected my soul.
Crash the car.
If the motor won't turn over,
glory be to god.
Jumped from the disloyal waves
back up to the bridge.
Renounced the warmth
of the turbulent grave.
I found blood on my lips
from a covetous kiss
and I hope that my home tips its glass to it.
