Tastes Like Funk

I'm gonna sing my blues
To the rattle of the sidewinder
Sing it to insomniac kids
And set their heads on fire
So turn the gain way higher
It'll help you find your blue skies sunny eyes While the whole street sleeps,
You & I

Get blazed, Get blazed
And we raise a glass for the end of days
Could have been anything,
could have been a saint
In the end we all die just the same
When Im dead, Dead and I'm done
All I wanna say is that it was fun
Cos I aint no hippy and I aint no punk
But I love that taste
Cos it tastes like funk

Let their be peace on mother earth
God will save the queen
Then we'll move it to the promise land
In the back of a blacked out limosine
Do it for you grey lung martyrs
Do it for your twisted spine fathers
Do it for your haha heroics
Of the unsung poet

Get blazed, Get blazed
And we raise a glass for the end of days
Could have been anything,
could have been a saint
In the end we all die just the same
When Im dead, Dead and I'm done
All I wanna say is that it was fun
Cos I aint no hippy and I aint no punk
But I love that taste
Cos it tastes like funk

Instrumental

Get blazed, Get blazed
And we raise a glass for the end of days
Could have been anything,
could have been a saint
In the end we all die just the same
When Im dead, Dead and I'm done
All I wanna say is that it was fun
Cos I aint no hippy and I aint no punk
But I love that taste
Cos it tastes like funk

Get blazed, Get blazed
And we raise a glass for the end of days
Could have been anything,
could have been a saint
In the end we all die just the same
When Im dead, Dead and I'm done
All I wanna say is that it was fun
Cos I aint no hippy and I aint no punk
But I love that taste
Cos it tastes like funk