Lyrics:
The sinners crying We're dressed like Fame The shame of knowing the guilty The killer instinct, play this game I know, we're nothing but filthy You're in the Deathclub, melt so strange You're in the Deathclub, melt so strange We're in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Membership is pain Were in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Silent, damned and strange Mindless follow, velvet tears The silent picture is perfect The octets of the flaws and fears I know, were nothing but servants You're in the Deathclub, melt so strange You're in the Deathclub, melt so strange We're in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Membership is pain Were in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Silent, damned and strange Take away the fear and I'll follow Take me half alive I'm not running scared Tomorrow, oh I'll survive You're in the Deathclub, melt so strange You're in the Deathclub, melt so strange We're in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Membership is pain Were in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Silent, damned and strange We're in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Membership is pain Were in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Silent, damned and strange We're in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Membership is pain Were in the Deathclub All free to sinuate Take your own life Silent, damned and strange
Makhu khipwa sgubu siyokhu tintilata Motivator Inspirator Sikhu'jaivisa malanga nje sinuate ya 2Kulture Mumba Sumba Ahh haa haa Makhu khipwa sgubu siyokhu tintilata Motivator Inspirator Sikhu'jaivisa malanga nje sinuate ya 2Kulture Mumba Sumba Loko ngibachazela Eh Loko ngibachazela Loko ngibachazela Ahh haa ha!!!!
SINUATE by Awkland Verse 1 Crossing lines or just wasting time Aim for the headline, body—shop your mind You're not enough when you just get by The hoi—polloi imply ‘cheer up or die!'
The spirit of the land sleeps on. I watch. About me tendrils sinuate. The cherished scents of flowers long dead Intoxicate. Silence. The millet-grass and tares Drag me down, stupefy, envelop, and A mocking wind wafts by above Our fallow Land.
