• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Panthers! Pow! Pow! - Panthers
• Theory Is Famous - Panthers
• Are You Down - Panthers
• Sex Ed - Panthers
• Vandalist Committee Of Public - Panthers
• Up Against the Wall - Panthers
• Walk Of Shame - Panthers
• Panthers - Sugar Bayou Band
• Lies Are The New Truth - Panthers
• Legally Tender - Panthers
• Lets Get Serious - Panthers
• Panthers Vs. The Automoton - Panthers
• Thank Me With Your Hands - Panthers
• Panthers - Wilco
• Snakes In The Soundsystem - Panthers
• We Are All Undesireables - Panthers

if i die in a car crash call it sculpture, the brash result of a failed suicide.
im the makeout king of valhalla and the brooding son of a gun.
cant fault the drummer if hes got none. you never gave him some.

He won't let me scream on him
I'd say "Off the pigs!" but I'm scared of it
But give me a book
And I'll read the shit out of it
Give me a book
And I'll feel tough and cut some skin.
He keeps saying "Maralist skill"
I'm just trying to pay the bills
But give me a book
And I'll read the shit out of it
Give me a book
And I'll feel tough and cut some skin.
It was only true when I read it to you
Now you think it's true, cause you heard it too
I think we'll wear a disguise and we won't compromise
Read about me when I die
Theory is famous, trust us.
And the racket is sweet.
Zizek sells me clothes from him
I think the catalogue is way too thin
But give me a book
And I'll read the shit out of it
Give me a book
And I'll feel tough and cut some skin.
It was only true when I read it to you
Now you think it's true, cause you heard it too
I think we'll wear a disguise and we won't compromise
Read about me when I die

They've got it one way, baby, perfectly packaged,
sterilzed. They've got it all wrong, baby. There is more
than one way. Didn't you see them, baby? They are
laughing in your face. Pick up a cobblestone, baby. There
is more than one way. Soldier, what do you have to
defend? All that money isn't yours, and those pigs don't
fight for you, no they don't. Sister, why does he step on
you? he says he doesn't want any 'chicks' in his
revolution. (IT doesn't belong to him.) Now you know what
to do: 'Make him pay!' They try to bring us down. They

Sometimes the face lights the page, and sometimes the
page lights the face. We are experimenting with desires
and winning. we are living the talk and kissing the faces
of everyone involved. We kiss the thoughts and fuck
whomever we damn well please. Marvin Gaye, Jean Genet,
Jean-Paul Sartre, Bernadine Dorhn, Audre Lorde, Anais
Nin, Emma Goldstein, Carol Queen, Michel Foucault. For
the ones that came before... shake, shake, shake. Tear
out the dead end and build a highway. All we want is
passion and we'll get it together, get it together, get
it together, we'll get it together. Shake, shake, shake,
shake, shake. This relationship has no boundaries. Keep
law out of my life and out of my love. Shake, shake,
shake, shake. You tell me to make love, not war. Why not

We aren't a band, we are a cabal of terrorists.
So give it up, give us the gold or your lives.
"Professors, you make us old" and you'll be the first to go: teachers, poets, militants, family.
You're all cops.
Don't say society, say racket, 'cause that's what it is, and your art is bourgeois shit!
Your culture is square shaped cop speak.
You're all impotent fools until you smash your teacher's face in and set fire to the faculty.
We aren't a band, we're a vandalist committee with stenciled faces and bloody lips.

We are revolutionary just by living, and we are alive.
And there is more of us than you think. We are outlaws.
The city is our new frontier. Let's watch it burn, babies. Let's watch it burn.
There is no limit to our lawlessness, and our clothes are a mess.
We are all that they say and more:
"Hideous, obscene, violent and young" and we like it that way.
We llike it that way.

We only have sex when you want to,
too busy to take our time.
Choreographed telegraphed scan the room
before we make crime.
There's no erotic without miserable lows,
the worse the better.
The more guilt, the sweatier.
Can't stand the pain, can't have the pleasure.

Panthers
BOB OLDREIVE & JOE LINDLEY
We were panthers and we ran
On twilight’s silver sand
In the tangles of the bayou
Disappear if you should follow
Never wait the light of day
To take our chosen prey
There’s a rustle in the trees
We wander where we please
All along our native coast,
Rumors, myths and ghosts
You wonder what we see
How it feels to be so free
To scale an ancient ruin
Silhouette the desert moon
Taking flight as we run
Hiding from the Mayan sun
A primal life austere
With only man to fear
Peering through the vines,

There are no ideas left, so I just pluck old ones from the air. Weave them from bathdrain hair.
I read what you write, and now it belongs to me.
So I'm changing it. What do you think about that?
I like my punk pastiche. My visuals collage.
Detournment is our "new" language.
Creation from your passed our passed overs.
You didn't drink together when you were alive.
Now you're dead and I say you're lovers.
I unzipped my pants to expose my bibliography.
Your source is showing.
You've got Marx on your face.

"I'm tired of this city"
Why did you say that?
When you're bored your pretty
I really meant that
Forever feeling
That the rebels dropped the ball
I'm failing it, it's on
Melissa's taking pity
I'm learning to get mad.
We dig our holes together
And it's really not bad.
America's getting stranger
I'm scared of Americans
Forever feeling
That the rebels dropped the ball
I'm failing it, it's on
"I'm tired of this city"
I knew you would say that
I have a conspiracy theory
On why you're like that.
Why didn't we try? We got to get it right.
This countries strange, I need a life vest.
You and I never get into fights.
We've got to try, it's better like that.
Why didn't the bell sound? (See who takes it)

I think I'm gonna leave Brooklyn for awhile.I think I'm
going to Oakland for a while.
I�m gonna wear shorts and I'm not gonna
Cry when I listen to 'wild horses'
Because
I dig holes all day
You and me, we're not the same
We speak in sounds
The secret sounds that
Secretly slang
You didn't , you didn't hurt me
I've got no feelings left
Let's not talk about it
We never did so why start now
Let's just go back to your place
And not talk about it there
I was thinking, we should sleep in separate beds
but the heat's gone to my head
Let's get tired at the same time (tonight)
You didn't , you didn't hurt me
I've got no feelings left
Stop fucking
Stop fucking with me
I'll stop fucking with you too
It's hard to do
I love you

the new leisure reeks of conspiracy.
the personality has been taken from my work.
i've become the king on my street
because the concept does not work.
more leisure for more work.
an inalienability of ideas.
i built a pipebomb in my spare time and it fits right in your mailbox.
it's laced with lipstick and perfume,
and truth be told its my greatest work.

I think I'm gonna leave Brooklyn for awhile.
I think I'm going to Oakland for a while.
I'm gonna wear shorts and I'm not gonna
Cry when I listen to 'wild horses'
Because
I dig holes all day
You and me, we're not the same
We speak in sounds
The secret sounds that
Secretly slang
You didn't, you didn't hurt me
I've got no feelings left
Let's not talk about it
We never did so why start now
Let's just go back to your place
And not talk about it there
I was thinking, we should sleep in separate beds
but the heat's gone to my head
Let's get tired at the same time (tonight)
You didn't, you didn't hurt me
I've got no feelings left
Stop fucking
Stop fucking with me
I'll stop fucking with you too
It's hard to do

Temper is a package
Pulling at its bow
Darling disasters
Help you grow
Panthers build their blood to bury
Daughters leave their dads to marry
Hide in the weeds
The orchestra
Is proving death again
Temper is the warp speed of red flashes
And all the bells ringing god forbid, god forbid
Did I catch you in the flashes?
Did I catch you in the flashes?
Hide with me
In the weeds
I'm proving death
Alive in the weeds
The orchestra

After God, art is next to die.
Piss on the grave against any survival of art, against the reign of seperation.
Comrades, who will ge tthe cops who did this?
"I cum over the paving stone."
And I'll do it again.
Fuck anarchy.
There's too many rules.
Rules are for cops, and cops are all dead.
The detournment of punk is nothing new.

I dream of an intellectual destroyer of evidence.
She makes love like a miracle.
She finds the weak points, the lines of force.
She'll divorce herself from the present.
She'll kiss like a despot and drive like a hero.
I dream of an intellectual destroy of univeralities.
I dream of a destroyer of intelligentsia.