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Front Line Assembly
Front Line Assembly


Background information
Origin Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Genre(s) Electronic Body Music
Electronic
Post-Industrial
Electro-industrial
Years active 1986—present
Label(s) Metropolis Records
Associated acts Conjure One
Cyberaktif
Delerium
Equinox
Intermix
Left Spine Down
Noise Unit
Pro-Tech
Synæsthesia
Will
Skinny Puppy
Members
Chris Peterson
Bill Leeb
Jeremy Inkel
Jared Slingerland
Jason Bazinet
Former members
Jed Simon
Devin Townsend
Adrian White
Michael Balch
Rhys Fulber
Jeff Stoddard
Jason Filipchuk
Glen Reely
Greg Reely
Jason Hagen
Craig Joseph Huxtable



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  F  →  Front Line Assembly  →  Albums  →  Comatose

Front Line Assembly Album


Comatose (1998)
1998
1.
Comatose (Valium 15 Mg)
2.
Comatose (Ketamin 45 Mg)
3.
Oblivion
4.
Comatose (Prozac 75 Mg)
. . .


Here today
Gone tomorrow
What's the flavor
Can I borrow?

Beg or steal
What's the deal?
Beats for the money
He's not real

Who stole by the hand
Who stole by the hand

Like grains of sand
We're blown away
A darkening sky
We fade away
Feeling sorrow
Don't mean a thing
Fame and fortune
Are everything

Bite the bullet
See the man
Feed his EGO
(...)

No more time
You feel the rhyme
Afraid to speak
The flavor's weak

Life is cheap
No time to speak
Ride the wave
No sync to slave

. . .


Here today
Gone tomorrow
What's the flavor
Can I borrow?

Beg or steal
What's the deal?
Beats for the money
He's not real

Who stole by the hand
Who stole by the hand

Like grains of sand
We're blown away
A darkening sky
We fade away
Feeling sorrow
Don't mean a thing
Fame and fortune
Are everything

Bite the bullet
See the man
Feed his EGO
(...)

No more time
You feel the rhyme
Afraid to speak
The flavor's weak

Life is cheap
No time to speak
Ride the wave
No sync to slave

. . .

Oblivion

[No lyrics]

. . .


Here today
Gone tomorrow
What's the flavor
Can I borrow?

Beg or steal
What's the deal?
Beats for the money
He's not real

Who stole by the hand
Who stole by the hand

Like grains of sand
We're blown away
A darkening sky
We fade away
Feeling sorrow
Don't mean a thing
Fame and fortune
Are everything

Bite the bullet
See the man
Feed his EGO
(...)

No more time
You feel the rhyme
Afraid to speak
The flavor's weak

Life is cheap
No time to speak
Ride the wave
No sync to slave

. . .


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