I.d.s

Broken past to the night raider
Whistling a tune in the gas chamber where were you when the wall came down knees up for your mother brown

Huddersfield on a cold damp morn
She gives birth to everything they scorn
I woke up in a hate dream babe
Coat my woe, with whatever you crave

40, 000 years of job club
40, 000 years
40, 000 years of job club
40, 000 years

Set them free forcefully

40, 000 years of job club
40, 000 years
40, 000 years of job club
40, 000 years