Gave my love two thousand yesterdays
Nothing is wrong I am always a little late
Probably will probably won't
Get this disease cut out of my throat
All of a sudden you come my way baby believer
I won't be saved by morning after
Struggling my name slave turned to master

History moans
Mouth of our father
History moans
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father

Edge of my bed Benzedrine telephone
Struggling to speak sicker than the sickest dog
Falling faster than a liar's grin
We need to be saved from the shit we're in
I believe in you I have found the perfect way to bring me down

I won't be saved by all your yesterdays
Piss on my grave piss on the the underlay

History moans
Mouth of our father
History moans
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father
Mouth of our father

It's the movement we're after