This songs made up, made second rate

Cosmetic music, powderpuff

Pop tunes, false rhymes, all lightweight bluffs

Second-hand ideas, no soul, no hate

Wasn't mean to be

Built on complacency

The nightmares ride away

When you refuse to play

Oh go and read a book

It's so much more worth while

Being a song-smith crook

Study death in style

Death in style This language used is all worn out

A walking corpse that won't play dead

Disease dragged on from bed to bed

Pay for your twist, paid for shout

Wasn't meant to be

Built on complacency

Open your eyes and see

That lie is not for we Raise a rope and a knife

Cut it out - the lie

I don't want to decay

Take the short cut away

Oh go and read a book

It's so much more worthwhile

Being a song-smith crook

Study death in style

Study death in style Heard you calling through the drumbeat

Answered with sticks and bones

Scream, shout, and dance about the campfire

You can hear the question, can you feel the reply? Heard you calling through the drumbeat

Heard you calling through the drumbeat

Can you hear the question, feel the reply?

Can you hear the question, feel the reply?

Hymn from a village

The hymn from a village