Bassem Sabry

Look at our electric guitars
 And, if not for the good people weeping
 All we'd hear is sounds of our horses dying
 But I'm not 'bout to start crying about it
 It must be fairly normal
 To devolve into cycloptic brooding
 As the genocidal massacres you rubbed
 Over some perceived sedition
 Insecurities of men messing everything up again
 (Oh, a show wrote in sparrow in the gales, only)
 I'll never follow no kind of master's voice
 The mutinous tramp of cold voltage crucifiction is my conduit
 I just watched my hero fail
 Now I'm in a dark and violent funk
 Every leader is a cellophane punk
 If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
 "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)
 There must be a softer vision that you could kick to
 In this aureate gloom, I assume
 Both sides are embarrassingly backwards in their thinking
 Bearing no one to side with, none I want to defend
 (So the mute-minded search, silly in love)
 People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution
 When they resurface, there's a black hole in their skull
 People disappear on the wrong side of this revolution
 When they'll return, all their childhood memories are dead
 
 I'll never follow no kind of master's voice
 The mutinous tramp of cold vulture crucifiction is my conduit
 I just watched my hero fail
 Now I'm in a dark and violent funk
 Every leader is a cellophane punk
 If you hear me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
 "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)
 I'll never follow no kind of master's voice
 The mutinous tramp of cold voltage crucifiction is my conduit
 ♪
 Yeah!
 ♪
 I believe in witches
 I believe in you
 I believe in witches
 I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you
 I believe in witches
 I believe in you
 I believe in witches
 I believe in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you