Brass knuckles an boots a halo on yer head, you walk down the street and they wish you were dead • You got fire in yer gut and no burdens on yer soul, they all want you to stop but will you? ...Fuck No! • They can’t change your fate, head shaved for battle, they can’t disguise their hate for you, the skin • Oi Oi skinhead get yer hair cut and you count on no one when you fight in a ruk. You skinhead you saint you’re the way of the youth. You skinhead you saint yeah you are the truth • It happened one day, a message in a bottle; It had to be a message from God, a ray from the clouds, or just way too much Bushmills, the voice said: Skinhead don’t you know you’re a saint • You tear down the walls when they try to oppress you, you always gotta fight they won’t leave it alone. They stand in your way, as if they could stop you. When you spill their blood it is for them to atone • There may be blood on yer boots but no burden on your soul, yeah God’s screamin’ YES and they’re screamin’ NO • Brass knuckles and boots baby • Because when yer a saint or when yer a skin; you’ve got the world in the palm of yer hand, and if their under yer boot? Well that’s all the better, give ’em the religion in a way they’ll understand.
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