You can call us traitors to the scene While you stand in the first row, yet Seven strings, Techno-Beats, Singing clean The worst nightmare of true metalheads
The pure sale of your soul You can show us your scorn But first show us your bills Betrayal of the scene-rules You can dislike us as long As you donʻt admit
We donʻt deny our roots We outgrew them We do not copy trends We create it We stand here cause we wanted it that way No oneʻs forcing you to stay Obey the words we say And pay our rent until decay
You can call us traitors to the scene While you stand in the first row, yet Seven strings, Techno-Beats, Singing clean The worst nightmare of true metalheads
Dance to the Sound of Commerce And be sure it canʻt get worse Cause we honestly confess That we want to reach the mass We donʻt need any fans Cause our Haters fill the ranks Watching us celebrate Every fucking note we play
We are beyond you We get up - you fall See how your scapegoat Is overtaking all
This is a fucking New Wave of Mainstream A middlefinger to this spineless scene!
Dance to the Sound of Commerce And be sure it canʻt get worse Cause we honestly confess That we want to reach the mass We donʻt need any fans Cause our Haters fill the ranks Watching us celebrate Every fucking note we playTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
