Dangers все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Clits and dicks. Clits and dicks ruin every night. Hudson Jeans and birth control. Perfume and the alcohol. Versus. Marshall stacks and sing-alongs. Myspace, Dunks, male chauvinists. Estrogen. Testosterone. My hormones ruin every night. And I've no one to blame but me, myself and I can't stand bars, shows, or my dick. Should have stayed home. Read a book instead.

And if I raise my hand
It's cause I don't understand
Why all the grown-ups that I know
Believe in boy kings and this giant man
I'd gladly bow my head
Just show me the bones
I'm sorry Mrs. Steves
I just can't stand it down here on my knees

Safe. So safe. So safe that we don’t mean a goddamn thing. There is no more danger, there’s no more danger here. We’re safe. A waste. We’re no longer something to fear. There’s so much left to sing about, there’s so much more to say. But we say less and less with each passing day. I thought we’d break down walls. I thought we’d rise above. That we’d conquer the world. That what we did was secret. Fuck a pretty product. And fuck a pretty tune. This is ugly fucking music from an ugly fucking room. We have stopped our digging. There’s no more underground. We sing: nothing, regurgitated gimmicky sounds. All our ears are plugged with the hottest of hot air. And we might actually make a difference if only we would ever dare. We just sing the same old shit. I won’t let us fool ourselves. I won’t keep up the charade. We could do so much more. Change much more than we’ve changed. Your mohawk don’t mean a thing. Your studded belt don’t mean a thing. And your test press don’t mean a goddamn thing to me. Punk rock don’t mean a thing. Punk rock don’t mean a thing. Punk rock don’t mean a goddamn thing to me. Can you use your brain? We can. Can you start to think? We can. Can you raise your voice? Can you be dangerous? Yes, we can.

What if this was the best day of your life? Gone without you knowing in the blink of vandal eyes? Knife in hand, caution to the wind. Prowl, mauraude, slash tires, unhinge. In a cold vein world without a pulse, you’ve got to plunge the knife. Keep stabbing. Drain the blood and spill the guts… Drain my Goodyears, drain them of their life. Slash. Don’t think twice. Never once look back. Leave your stain and plunge the knife. Late for work, at a dead-end in the road. A puncture. A wound. A blessing à la mode. In a cold vein world without a pulse, you’ve got to plunge the knife. Keep stabbing. Drain the blood and eat the flesh. Sink deep your teeth and dine all through the night. Drain the blood. Spill the guts. Then plunge the knife straight into the heart of my safe little life. Of my sacred routine. I’m jealous of boys who trade day jobs for midnights and rage through the night without remorse or hindsight. But I’m a coward. I’ve slackened my spine. Pay my bills, go to school, get a job, fall in line. But I want to drink all the blood. And I want to eat all the flesh. And I want to spill all the guts. You slashed through my tire but punctured my chest.

Why didn't you kill yourself today?
What cross, what coupon, what cathode ray
Put the joie de vivre in your diseased heart?
How Anne Hathaway,
How Peg Bundy
Thou art.
Hey Sugar:
Prove to me that the air you breathe