Caterwaul

Summer days come again, sunshine take me home, I've had my fill of alcohol, and I don't wanna sleep alone.
Even if it's momentary psychedelic bliss, I need me some oblivion, and someone I would gladly kiss.
So Mamma, hear my caterwaul, boys pick up your guns, we're breaking through the stratosphere, and burning out the fucking Sun.
So Sunday, Monday, any day, whatever day it is, pour me out a whiskey drink, so I can get some fucking catharsis.

Anarchy, anarchy, give us fucking anarchy. Oh whoa, anarchy, anarchy.

I'm getting on without you now, but then I see your face, it reminds me of the summer rain, and takes me back to a place.
When I was much much happier, no tsunamis or earthquakes, but now the world is crumbling, and all that's left is left to take.
And Victims tell us many things, just like "We're born to die," and in this "Fucked reality" I hope I die burning alive.
So baby, hear my caterwaul, I'm vengefully living well, because my reason to move on, is to make your life a living hell!