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Two years ago we told you our vicissitudes
More than CD's we were selling our bermudas
We were without a deal, without shoes and without meal
Madam Min cleaned cupfuls my “everyday” was awful
Skeleton left us to philosophize
Jorgy get back to play his ho-hum borin' craze
But nothing disheartened us, neither to be halved
So Rob bore hours of bike to get Rod join the band

Despite Jerico's threats he started to thrash
What do you fear to rest in briefs without dress?
Ten ill-fated years and then we found a worldwide deal
We didn't believe it: a dream becomin' real
Roland won great slam and entered Hyades
But seeing him on stage we said "who fuck is this?"
Skeleton smelt the smell of outcomes
Reborn the posse of deadbrains 'n' broken bones

Wops still thrash
It seems we play it well also without mandolino, torre di Pisa, piazza San Marco
And the
Wops still thrash
No pizza, no mafia, no soccer, no Moggi, no Totti, no pasta
Wops still thrash
Touring across Europe on a ramshackle van without a motherfuckin’ cent
But the
Wops still thrash
Back to home we’ll find our bosses angry for our absence from work

Lose your illusions and abuse theirs
Delay by delay the album goes out on its way
No fucking thing of course can go right
Clearing CDs through Customs has been a mortal fight
Rip-offs are ready to skin this band
Never bend forward and always look at your back
Nothing bring us down, we are alive and well
This album kick ass, we’re gonna raise hell

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