Wille & The Bandits Son Of A Gun
Make me sick with your congregation, need a piece of metal for your
own protection, how many innocent casualties till you realize you’re a
terrorist in your own cities.
Want to act tough, want to play rough; you act mean with a magazine
BANG BANG BANG that’s a killing machine.
Shout and shout and shout you’re alive
Shout and shout and shout you’re alive
Because when the rain comes and the storm runs, you’re still Son of
the Gun.
Brainwashed by a paranoid nation, need a shooter in case of land
invasion, surely the government realize things have changed 200
years and a new war game.
son of the gun but the gun is your sun.
