The Others - The Ark

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, Oh-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…