What the f*** has happened?
Everything sacred has been reduced to s*** by the "heavy" hand of trend-selling p*****.
No more heroes, just human waste.
Our idols have been replaced by hideous faces of frauds who pretend to feel lost.
Disgraces of bands who buy their souls at wholesale cost and sell them back with no remorse to the walking dead w****s.
So count the numbers and on to the next city.
Preach to the choir of unknowing children
who will scream back to you with sterile expressions of passion.
Oh how I pity you who think you've struck gold,
but you're mining for s*** in a sea of coal.
You're taking our love and swallowing it whole.
Digesting it into excrement for the suits to mass-produce in an a**embly line force-fed into the mouths of the youth.
This is a sad and bitter truth.
So count the numbers and on to the next city.
Preach to the choir of unknowing children
who will scream back to you with sterile expressions of passion.
Oh how I pity you who think you've struck gold,
So what can we do to save everything we love that's been made a joke by capitalist f****?
Cuz' one by one, every kid who could have had a mind of his own is being beaten into submission by the industrialization of artistic freedom.
Let's end this plague before it ruins everything of substance, everything sacred.
Let's end this plague before it ruins everything.
Everything sacred has been reduced to s*** by the "heavy" hand of trend-selling p*****.
No more heroes, just human waste.
Our idols have been replaced by hideous faces of frauds who pretend to feel lost.
Disgraces of bands who buy their souls at wholesale cost and sell them back with no remorse to the walking dead w****s.
So count the numbers and on to the next city.
Preach to the choir of unknowing children
who will scream back to you with sterile expressions of passion.
Oh how I pity you who think you've struck gold,
but you're mining for s*** in a sea of coal.
You're taking our love and swallowing it whole.
Digesting it into excrement for the suits to mass-produce in an a**embly line force-fed into the mouths of the youth.
This is a sad and bitter truth.
So count the numbers and on to the next city.
Preach to the choir of unknowing children
who will scream back to you with sterile expressions of passion.
Oh how I pity you who think you've struck gold,
So what can we do to save everything we love that's been made a joke by capitalist f****?
Cuz' one by one, every kid who could have had a mind of his own is being beaten into submission by the industrialization of artistic freedom.
Let's end this plague before it ruins everything of substance, everything sacred.
Let's end this plague before it ruins everything.