Wildlands - Dan Bull

Ghost

Ghost

Ghost

We are passengers

We are drivers

We are travelers

We are survivors

We are hunters

We are judges

Administer justice swift without grudges

Don’t you know you’ve seen a ghost?

'Cause were supposed to be nobody

No relief, undercover, canopies we go beneath

Okeley-dokeley, shipping coca leaf overseas

Isn’t supposed to be so easy

So, we’re blowing the boat into pieces, Jesus

A landslides just enough pebbles to ruffle feathers

I stand by as the dust settles

A gunmetal nettle in a meadow full of buttercups

A shark fin cutting through a slew of rubber ducks

Pull up in a grubby truck, covered in mud and muck

The stuff is shut up in a wooden hut

Motherfuck it up

A sudden rush of blood, a warm buzz, a blush

Rubbing a sore, bloody raw with a scrubbing brush

Hush!

Even if we must stand here for hours

A rush and a push

And the land that we stand on is ours

The Santa Blanca Gang’s a contraband extravaganza

We deliver packets to the planet like a phantom Santa

Stuffing our pockets with narcotics

You can’t stop it, far from it

The harder you try;

the larger is our profit

Our wallets are swollen up from the hard product

Bars solid, this is real crack music, harmonic

We are passengers

We are drivers

We are travelers

We are survivors

We are hunters

We are judges

Administer justice swift without grudges

Freezing or blazing, all seems to be the same up in here

We’re all-terrain warriors razing reigns in Bolivia

Heartfelt alarm bells ring heavier than bar bells

Money m-m-multiplying like a fertilized cell

Cartel giving a hard sell to clientele

No, «Voulez-vous de la cocaine

S’il vous plait, madamoiselle?»

This is life or death, we do not require a locked cell

No one else is qualified, we’re dealing with it ourselves

Dark realms, doubts, you can’t help the cards dealt

But if you’ve a large mouth, you’re in the dog house

I’ve witnessed horrors upon the likes of which I shan’t dwell

But hang around and you might well find out

The Wildlands is no climate for a mild man

But my old man said I should climb up as high as I can

You better be nice

Every time when we’re behind enemy lines

'Cause otherwise it’ll be like the time when Kennedy died

Sniping time, deadly as cyanide

Your head in the firing line

Violent, dynamite your mind

You’re dead as a trilobite

And by the by, I’m flying by to foil your vile plans

So, try your hand, I am the Trial of the Wildlands

We are passengers

We are drivers

We are travelers

We are survivors

We are hunters

We are judges

Administer justice swift without grudges

We are passengers

We are drivers

We are travelers

We are survivors

We are hunters

We are judges

Administer justice swift without grudges

Ghost

Ghost

Ghost

Ghost