they called us walking corpses ... unholy living dead ... they had to lock us up put us in their british hell ... make sure your face is clean now ... can't have no dirty dead ... all the corpses here are clean, boy ... all the yanks in british hell ... i wanna be here in your london dungeon ...

I live in the village Whenever I go out walking I keep my friends around so I have someone to talk too I play my music loud cuz you know it's got clout to it ...

You never miss your water till your well runs dry

the knot is tight on my blindfold ...

i don't know why i feel this way ... i don't know if its right or wrong to laugh at misfortune ... But, darkness can never last too long ... when you laugh in its face ...

vertically challenged yet horizontally gifted ...

the luck of the Irish is about to kick in ...

Here comes the sun king ...

My prayer is a rapture in bloom ... With the world far away and your lips close to mine ...

I don't want to set the world on fire, I just want to start a flame in your heart ...

tellin' tall tales of how it used to be ...