False Positive

This is the lyrics to "Drums" not "False Positive"

Nope, this is definitely False Positive.

All I know is I had a nightmare to this song but I woke up feeling really happy.

Probably the best song on Coughs.

Something in the way these boys walk down the street Is blocking out my vision of the sun Something in the way everything here looks the same Is blocking out my vision of the sun The sameness is killing me It tells me something's wrong Tells me all I see is vision of none Merging again into this one this one this one This one is vision of none

Kissing clones disowns disowns your personality Kissing clones is fake substitute authenticity Kissing clones isn't any satisfaction Kissing clones is volunary ghettoization Kissing clones is no soul soul soul Kissing clones is no soul soul soul Safety in numbers is no solution If your own liberation becomes a prison Clones have dead beats while we have wild rhythms Clones' time is up and we carry the coffin We love what's alive We love what's in motion We love the sense of touch but their fingertips are frozen So quick quick, throw away those mannerisms Quick quick, knock and it will be opened Quick quick, ask and it will be given Quick quick, seek and you will find

Oh, oh, someone on this street lost his life tonight Oh, oh, someone on this street lost consciousness tonight Oh, oh, blood runs like rivers down this street tonight Oh, oh, someone on this street lost consciousness tonight All of the boys on 17th Street, they only know one thing And all of the boys on 17th Street, they all wear the same thing They used to talk about visibility but they don't see a thing And they speak it in the same voice but they don;t say anything Oh, oh, give up give up those silent signs Oh, oh, so we cannot break this heart, don't break this heart

quick quick, throw away those mannerisms Quick quick, knock and it will be opened Quick quick, ask and it will be given Quick quick, seek and you will find

All of the boys on 17th Street, they only know one thing And all of the boys on 17th Street, they all wear the same thing They used to talk about visibility but they don't see a thing And they speak it in the same voice but they don;t say anything

Safety in numbers is no solution If your own liberation becomes a prison Clones have dead beats while we have wild rhythms Clones' time is up and we carry the coffin

Open up your fucking mind and you can fly Silence is still death and clone fashion and clone motion are still silent signs Because you know we have the handle And you know they have the blade So, boys and girls, its time to decide decide decide