La Tierra Del Rock

Wielding a sword, I was born
for Heavy Metal I fought, for you Heavy Metal.

A million heads I cut
with the neck of my guitar
during the night I played with fury
a million wild solos.

I met a posh guy... I killed him.
(You deserved it, you posh bastard) [Posh THUG!]
I lined my jacket with his guts,
and rolled a joint with his eyelids.

Son of Thunder, God of Metal,
take your sword and ride towards eternity,
your weapons will be your malignancy,
cheap beer from the supermarket and a foie gras sandwich.

In the land of rock, no one asks for your ID,
everything has a solution and hair waves as flags.
In the land of Rock, bologna is free,
wine, potatoes, and anise are always on offer.

But there's no place for you in the land of rock! Posh! Posh! Uuuu