Слова песни The Ark — The Others

I'm getting sick
Of you calling it chic
To describe what is that I am,
When I know that I'm damned,
'Cause I got no own place to go.

I'm getting sick and tired.
You say you know my kind,
But I'm a one of a kind,
I'm blind leading blind,
'Cause we got no own place to go.

But we're the pounding of the drums,
We're your next-door neighbour.
You sure must have known
You got nowhere to go

The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The In-Lovers, Oh-oh-Oh!

I'm building an army of misplaced lovers
Known as "the others",
Working under covers of love,
'Cause we got nowhere else to go

Gonna enlist every baldheaded chick with a dick,
Every queer that is her, so, you stupid gits
Know you're fucked-up, nowhere to go

Hear the pounding of the drums
From your next-door neighbour.
You sure must have known
You got nowhere to go

The Others, O-oh-Oh!
The Others, Oh-oh-Oh!
The In-Lovers, O-oh-Oh!

I'm building an army of misplaced lovers
Known as "the others",
Working under covers...
The Others...