Lletres: The Ark. The Others.

I?m getting sick
Of you calling it ?chic?
To describe what is that I am
when I know that I?m damned,
cause I got no own place to go

I?m getting sick and tired
You say you know my kind
But I?m a one of a kind
I?m blind leading blind
Cause we got no own place to go

But we?re the pounding of the drums
We?re your next-door neighbour
You sure must have known
You got nowhere to go

The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The In-Lovers, Oh-oh-Oh!


I?m building an army of misplaced lovers
Known as ?the others?
Working under covers
of love
Cause we got nowhere else to go

Gonna enlist every baldheaded chick with a dick
Every queer that is here so you stupid gits
Know You?re fucked-up, nowhere to go

Hear the pounding of the drums
from your next-door-neighbour

You sure must have known
You got nowhere to go

The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The In-Lovers, O-oh-Oh!

I?m building an army of misplaced lovers
Known as ?the others?
Working under covers
The Others?