Free Lyrics 2026

At The Drive-in ~ Mannequin Republic


I'm just tired of counting bodies Is this mausoleum tardy Let's just paint you a pretty face Flies dip tongues into tear ducts In toothpicks fought unborn Contusion is hungry They still eat their young Proto-culture null and void All veins in highway laps This breath collapsed again This hex was delivered spent Orchestra influenza Drawn and quartered pets It dwells and grows This is the pocket-sized edition Rapid sleep through benediction Let's just paint you a pretty face Museums mark their bodies down And the tenants found All the distance in their prefix Contusion is hungry They still eat their young Proto-culture null and void Fever bliss into central nervousness I was bitten on the entrance They'd call it a wasteland Auslander plates You know its armor was human Drove stakes into the main camps Eyesockets sank into The back of its head again This frequency was jet lagged Yes the wrinkles mate Was the owner's manual Frequent flyers in denial And all the while Emergency is evident Revenants were the statues Radar learning of huddles masses Sutured all the patience Of this nursing home Emitted from the pages Of this burial ground Labor concentrated In this sheepless chapel They call it a wasteland more free lyrics

I'm just tired of counting bodies
Is this mausoleum tardy
Let's just paint you a pretty face
Flies dip tongues into tear ducts
In toothpicks fought unborn
Contusion is hungry
They still eat their young
Proto-culture null and void

All veins in highway laps
This breath collapsed again
This hex was delivered spent
Orchestra influenza
Drawn and quartered pets
It dwells and grows

This is the pocket-sized edition
Rapid sleep through benediction
Let's just paint you a pretty face
Museums mark their bodies down
And the tenants found
All the distance in their prefix

Contusion is hungry
They still eat their young
Proto-culture null and void
Fever bliss into central nervousness
I was bitten on the entrance

They'd call it a wasteland
Auslander plates
You know its armor was human
Drove stakes into the main camps
Eyesockets sank into
The back of its head again
This frequency was jet lagged
Yes the wrinkles mate
Was the owner's manual

Frequent flyers in denial
And all the while
Emergency is evident
Revenants were the statues
Radar learning of huddles masses
Sutured all the patience
Of this nursing home
Emitted from the pages
Of this burial ground

Labor concentrated
In this sheepless chapel
They call it a wasteland

more free lyrics

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Globalized Sounds

Today, beautiful European and American music, an Afrobeats recorded in Lagos, can play in headphones in Tokyo; a South Korean idol group can fill an Argentine stadium to capacity. On Spotify, the playback volume of African music has increased by 500% in five years; K-pop has already transcended the Asian border and become a common language for young people all over the world; Latin music has consistently topped the streaming charts for several consecutive years. The world is getting smaller while the scope of music is expanding.

The Power of the Scene

When the lights dim and the first note is played, strangers become synchronized. The tremor when thousands sing together, and the melody that still echoes after the crowd disperses - this is an experience that no screen can convey. We look forward to the return of large-scale concerts to the essence of music, and we also look forward to small livehouses continuing to nourish the most vibrant soil of music.

Crossing Borders

Music transcends languages - even if you don't understand the lyrics, you can still shed tears or dance. It transcends cultures - the drumbeats of Nigeria and the chants of Iceland coexist under the same sky. It transcends generations - a song from half a century ago can still bring tears to the eyes of today's young people.

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