gave my love 2 thousand yesterdays

nothing is wrong i am always a little late

probably will probably won't

get this disease cut out of my throat

all of a sudden you come my way baby believer

i won't be saved by morning after

struggling my name slave turned to master

history moans

mouth of our father

history moans

mouth of our father

mouth of our father

edge of my bed benzedrine telephone

struggling to speak sicker than the sickest dog

falling faster than a liar's grin

we need to be saved from the shit we're in

i believe in you i have found the perfect way to bring me down

i won't be saved by all your yesterdays

piss on my grave piss on the the underlay

history moans

mouth of our father

history moans

mouth of our father

mouth of our father

mouth of our father

it's the movement we're after