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
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