Woorden:
Propagandhi Where Quantity Is Job 1

In My Arms All through the years you were my hero My best friend and my one companion Then we got news and my world shut down And I took care of you

the two-steps, the goose-steps back. back from square one, from where we'd just begun, and then it rang a bell-but is this kristallnacht or what the fuck is

brains you lack-anthrax) a gov't self-portrait, an evil we must face (and replace), you've convinced me that a working class stiff (but a proud one!) is

t reverse the damage done. Your knowledge is a bullet in their gun. they've taught you well, destroyed every last brain cell with their methods, 10 on 1

hey hannah, how's it going? can i borrow some records you punk rock piece of shit? hey jord, join the chicken-fight, is that a sub you've got in your

and every one of my convictions? secured and mutually reassured of our consistency. but your defence rejects what (you claim) you believe. because what the fuck is

thought, word and deed once sloganeered, a reaction undefined, the battle-hymn, the mantra of a once unfocused mind. but as logic tempered anger, still

insecure as you (maybe even x2). and i wonder what you really thought of me. an intimate friend? a loud-mouth jerk or just a novelty? this is not an apology

hello, this is jord from propagandhi here. uh, besides the itching of my crabs, i'd like to say subscribe to 4zzz don't take this for granted, eh. fuck