Текст песни March of the Zug (Quasar Wut-Wut) с переводом

There’s a slow moving train

Rolling through the rain

And a man with a hammer

Who is writhing around

A certain school of thieves

Are watching from the trees

They’re counting their splinters

Before they leap to the ground

The sun’s dying rays

Ripping through the haze

Have betrayed the Technicolor

Madness in their eyes…

The Easy Street Sons of Kings

Are fucking with everything

Now Spoonboy the Madpisser

Has escaped into the night

The Sultans of the Swine

Are turning fish into wine

They whisper their mantras

To the gods of the Right

The moon’s lunar phase

Lends venom to the craze

That detonates like tidal waves

Tearing through their minds…

The bitches of the drain

Are fiending for the rain

That just cripples up their minds

With its spastic display

An accessory to their trade

Poor Old Phineas Gage

Pleads to keep his faculties

But is destined to fail

The science of the sane

Has crumbled from the strain

Of trying to find a back door

From this landscape of Hell

Перевод песни March of the Zug