Soul Preachers

Cunt Hunt

Soul Preachers


Arms are sometimes shorter than they used to be
I try to reach out for some empathy
You drank champagne with your enemies
I get what is left of your broken glass

It's saturday night - It's a cunt hunt
One is a crowd
You are the artist, I'm in pain you paint
It's saturday night - It's a cunt hunt
It's white, made out of rice, distilled twice

Tons of footsteps, collectors's items
Cracking ice and melting hearts
Sometimes the crowd is yelling, give you advice (the crowd is wise)
Silence sometimes would be nice

It's saturday night - It's a cunt hunt
One is a crowd
You are the artist, I'm in pain you paint
It's saturday night - It's a cunt hunt
One is a crowd
It's white, made out of rice, distilled twice

Everything's a reflection of your mood
My teeth are filled - every hour - with your ache
You shine, I drink my wine, you read my mind
One is a crowd, two is a mess - you read my mind

It's saturday night - It's a cunt hunt
One is a crowd
You are the artist, I'm in pain you paint
It's saturday night - It's a cunt hunt
One is a crowd
You are an artist

It's a cunt hunt
It's a cunt hunt

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