IRC-Galleria

Mama we all go to hell.
Mama we all go to hell.
I'm writing this letter and wishing you well.
Mama we all go to hell.

Mama we're all gonna die.
Mama we're all gonna die.
Stop asking me questions, I hate to see you cry.
Mama we're all gonna die.

And when we go don't blame us, yeah,
We let the fire just fade us, yeah,
You made us oh so famous
WeÂ’ll never let you go.
And when you go don't return to me my love.

Mama we're all full of lies.
Mama we're meant for the flies.
And right now they're building a coffin your size.
Mama we're all full of lies.

Well mother what the war did to my legs and to my tongue,
You shoulda raised a baby girl
I shoulda been a better son
If you can count on the infection they can amputate at once
You shouldÂ’ve been
I could've been a better son.

And when we go don't blame us, yeah,
we let the fire just fade us yeah,
you made us all so famous,
we'll never let you go.


She said you ain't no son of mine.
For what you've done there
YouÂ’ll find a place for you
and just you mind your manners when you go.

And when you go don't return to me my love,
That's right.

Mama we all go to hell,
Mama we all go to hell,
ItÂ’s really quite pleasant except for the smell,
Mama we all go to hell.

Mama, Mama, Mama, ohhhh.
Mama, Mama, Mama.

Liza: and just who would call me a sweet heart, and maybe then see you a son?

Gerard: but the shit that I've done with this spark of a gun,
You will cry us to rise up alive.

WeÂ’re dead after all.
Through fortune and fame/blame we fall.
And if you can say that IÂ’ll show you the way
And straight from the ashes you crawl.

We all carry on
When our brothers in arms are gone
So raise your guns high for tomorrow we die
And return from the ashes you fall