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Á¦¸ñ: Hands That Bleed
°¡¼ö: Puffball


A mechanics stigmata, work under the gun.
Stuck under the hood, hiding from the sun.
Sleep¡¯s not important, hunger¡¯s not around.
Screwing like a freak, drooling like a hound.
It has gotta click, nothing can go wrong.
Gotta have it running not before too long.
Petrol in my nostrils, chaos in my head.
My palms keep drippin¡¯, staying out of bed.

Hand me the wrench and the trucker speed.
Gonna work ¡¯til I¡¯ve got hands that bleed.

Deadline¡¯s approaching, morning has just come.
Tightening the last bolt, have I made it run ?
I turn the key, it awakes with a shout.
I made it through the night, it¡¯s all set to take ¡¯em out.
It has gotta click, nothing can go wrong.
Gotta have it running not before too long.
Sleep¡¯s not important, hunger¡¯s not around.
Screwing like a freak, drooling like a hound.

Hand me the wrench and the trucker speed.
Gonna work ¡¯til I¡¯ve got hands that bleed.

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Hands That Bleed
Puffball



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