Текст песни M.C.T. (Fog Of War) с переводом

Arrive at the show, six pack in my hand

By the time it’s over, I won’t be able to stand

Through the front door, a feeling of dread

Welcomed by a crowd walker’s kick to the head

Concerns, worries, they don’t mean shit

Everything’s fine once you get in the pit

Break your shoulder break your neck, bring on whiplash

Your buzz is writing checks your body can’t cash

Beer on the floor, blood on the stage

Can’t find the door, trapped in this cage

Beer on the floor, blood on the stage

Slamming, crushing, thrashing

Bodies left from the last band that played

Get in the pit, come on do a flip

The room’s soaked in blood and you try not to slip

You’re going insane, you’re losing your grip

Casualties multiply as the guitars let rip

Show’s only half over and you wanna go to bed?

Go to sleep now and you’ll wake up dead

Three concussions, broken fingers, busted nose

And no sorrow, there’s another show tomorrow

Beer fuels the aural assault, riots chaos

Heads, arms, legs and guts

Thrash 'til death as the last exit shuts

Bodies are flying, everyone’s dying

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