Vārdi:
Bad Religion No Control

It's a love song to the self, a story recapped every day It's a world of bogus feelings and a world of slow decay It's a world of laughter hidden by this

This isn't another new fashion Or a new wave plastic trend Everybody's searching for something But in the mean time let's all just pretend I've got this

Going through a world of sad debris Regard quixotic reveries of ownership The blossoming disease of man called tenure and accretion The ancient western

The wheat waving next to you is healthy and so fine As is dinner with your loved-ones every day But your routine is changeless, through the decades of

And progress is not intelligently planned It's the facade of our heritage The odor of our land They speak of progress In red, white and blue It's the

There's a place where everyone can be happy It's the most beautiful place in the whole fuckin' world It's made of candy canes and planes and bright, red

Tulkojums: Bad Reliģija. Bez kontroles.

away, and believe these words you hear when you think your path is clear . . . we have no control, we do not understand, you have no control, you are

: well the sheaves have all been brought, but the fields have washed away, and the palaces now stand where the coffins all were laid, and the times we