Rambo Apocalypse Riders Lyrics

Industrial collapse. The wheels of the machine grind to a
halt living in excess. Greedy bastards. We've closed in
on ourselves. Detached from nature. Technology's children
must fend for themselves. Dwindling resources. This
lifestyle cannot be maintained. The bike punx will rule the wasteland. The wells run dry. Running on fumes when
your car comes to a sputtering halt. We will become
apocalypse riders. When wheels of steel dance on your
graves you will fear apocalypse riders.