The Contract - U.S. Bombs

An old motel broad side of the road

There ain’t been a lick of sense the manager hides

The lable sighsthrough booking agents and promoter ties

The contracts runnin out tonight

Back to the laundromats tonight

We know our place we’re in your face

We are a disgrace for the human race

No hallos here, none of us are saints

The underrated, the underdogs

The unnaounced, under the fog

The boat keeps floating and we keep rowing

F**k off we’re marchin on

We’ve never been about business man

They won’t play us on the radio

I guess we’re just a bloody neusance

We’re just a bunch of f**king punks