lirik lagu fellowman - seven trumpets
[verse 1]
feel it in the monsoon, listen to the song’s tune
gongs boom, we’ll be gone soon
nothing left to consume, trees will not bloom
a clean sweep with god’s broom
we’re just a leaky pontoon, a backed-up log flume
a halloween costume that the dog chewed
seeing signs like we’re all on shrooms
a quick finish to a long doom, going back to mom’s womb
forget your reverie, sh-t you’ll never see
everybody floats up in the dead sea
the air is heavy, smelling of deviltry
effectively, heaven is a memory
a friend’s an enemy, flesh is an effigy
welcome to the failure of chemistry
the death of longevity, the end of ident-ty
listen to the trumpets, revelation and reveille
sing!
[hook – barun singh]
i promise it won’t be so bad
[x3]
(seven trumpets blowing in my head now)
i promise it won’t be so bad
[x3]
(seven trumpets blowing in the wind)
[verse 2]
no mo’ indo, gin and juice
no more kinfolk, no more guinness brews
no more celebrity interviews up in the news
nothing innocent to seduce, no more kid abuse
no more pimp shoes, no more ginsus
no more christians, muslims, jews, hindus
no more barbecues–that’ll be hard to lose
but at least there’ll never be another scar or bruise
no more tattoos, no more tongue studs
no more gat shooting by young bloods
no more gun clashes, no more wars
no more sungl-sses indoors
no more fake t-ts, no more innocent dead
no more sp-ceships, no more cinnamon bread
no more us, so no more stressin’ armageddon
that’s one, two, three, four, five, six, seven
sing!
[hook]
[verse 3]
let’s break bread for the plague dead, the blessed
checked out at breakfast, left us with the mess
never had to see the devil dogs get fed
died with dignity in a bed
and lest we forget to pour head
make the doorstep, curb, and the floor wet for the war dead
they didn’t choose when to leave
but at least when they did, somebody was there to grieve
i never believed in demons, ’til i seen ’em
now i hear screaming, pandemonium
like a black sabbath song
and i’m a vagabond in a self-sabotaged babylon
we ain’t got more than four days
’til we dissipate like a morning haze
so light ’em if you got ’em for the last rites
enjoy your last nights, that’s life
sing!
[hook]
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