Fansong

You people out there give us something more than just record sales...
You give us something to hate!
And we hate you...You brainless mutants...

You hunched and blinded eunuchs living in the chat rooms,
you masterbate on the sheets
your mother´s clean for you.

You have linded my pockets,
overflowed with gold,
you´re living with your parents
and you´re 35 years old.

You´re a bunch of banks,
that i´d like to rob,
you´re my online cash transaction,
you´re my future stocks.

Transfer you like money
to a swiss account,
spend you on an impulse buy,
and zero you all out.

Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate!
Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate!

You sad and putrid losers
complaining on the couch.
Think you´re fucking than better than us?
You can´t leave your house.

Deluted little maggots
fold your arms and frown,
go to work and make me money
before I put you down.

You´re a bunch of banks,
that i´d like to rob,
you´re my online cash transaction,
you´re my future stocks.

Transfer you like money
to a swiss account,
spend you on an impulse buy,
and zero you all out.

Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate!
Hate! Hate! Hate! Hate!

I would like to get some sleep,
but you keep buying all our things.
My overhead is way to deep,
for us to not keep making this.

It´s way to cynical you see.
Hating what´s supporting me,
I am not you I think the gods,
and if I were I´d die like dogs.

Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!
Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!
Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!

You´re a bunch of banks,
that i´d like to rob,
you´re my online cash transaction,
you´re my future stocks.

Transfer you like money
to a swiss account,
spend you on an impulse buy,
and zero you all out.

You´re credit card,
that I will defile,
every time I will max you out.
I get a thousand miles.

You´re a brand new car,
that I not need,
wrap you around a telephone pole,
shrug it off and leave.

Just follow me...
Down the elevator...
Through the gates...
Down the stairs...
Just keep on walking...
Trough the hallway...
Now open the door...