There's a war, there's a clash of sorts   Dead ahead   It's foreign but it's real   Knock, knock, knock   There it sits taxing every move   Your world son   So either get your gun or clean theirs   With the neck of your ego on the chopping block   Sugar memories bring you back to a time when   Your loudest care was a high chair   Not a number or a name for you to make   This is it 'cause luck moved out last week   No more camp   So shine your saber well   Before you kill a panzer tank with it   Like you told everyone you would   Good bye   Bend and spread or be dead with no history   So live for the luxuries   Cause you can't be a person with your head iced off.