Hitchhiked to [bad word] and back
Riding the wind
Waiting for a generation's bonfire to begin
When the plunder of the poets
Thunder of a punk's guitar
Beat life to my body
Sulking [bad word] at the back of a bar

Whoring my heart
On the wings of a western night
Busting my guts
On a riot dose of paradise
When a red-blooded daughter
Slowed my [bad word] to rest
With her blitzkrieg love
And a roman candle kiss

There is no high like this
Adrenaline nightshift

Hurricane home to [bad word] alone
Wounded and thin
Still waiting for a generation's bonfire to begin
When I muscle up some money
I'll rattle the sabre of the streets
Cause death has no respect for love
And youth no respect for me

There is no high like this
Adrenaline nightshift