Accent will burn ya.

Shotgun in the grip of both my hands.
The way I blast and they way they still try to stand.
The end of the season and lucks an empty can.
The way I tell you what´s wrong can´t even convey.
And your face wouldn´t even switch to a touch of more dismayed.
My accent clouds your ear. And even the concerned don´t care.
One day my fire will burn you before you´re one little bit aware.
I think that´s just about fair as our paradise should be almost decent.
Take pills, take a bus, but don´t take the p*ss out my f*ck*n accent.