Text: Spiritual Front. Armageddon Gigolò. A Bastard Angel.

It's embarrassing to see you wave that flag when you try to give yourself a navigated tone
You fix your damp collar a wring of blood to your dick
You'd like it but it will not work
You try to make me feel guilty for never never having had
An identity, a defined and conformed middle class sexuality

All the uniforms are shit
All the ideals are shit
Love and this nation have forced us
In a chain of sperm and blood

A bastard angel will take me away from the fat tummy of God
He will be the precise sniper that will center my weak chest
A bastard angel will lick my wound while your hand will leave me
While your hand will leave me bleeding on the floor

Walk around my smashed skull; walk around my disabled strength
I don't want to die so I can see you your flesh crumble, your chest open
The right road's the lie of intellectual and criminals; love won't give life to
The children we've never had; love won't give life to this job that will bury us
Dissidents, passionate lovers, and combed proud soldiers
Don't ask me more questions because I have no memory because I never will