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