Text: Lower Class Brats. A Class Of Our Own. No Doves Fly Here.

out here after dark out in the streets
never trust anyone that you meet
bullets fly by and people scream
the lucky lie dead this aint no dream

no, no, no doves fly here

desperate kids take what you got
doesnt really matter cuz it aint a lot
bomb all the dance halls watch the ravers die
no turning back from suicide