She's a tramp and he's a loser   In a smoky bar from kafka's darkest dreams   And the critics know what crap is hip to swallow   It's all high volume   Her leather comes off in the back room   And a million screaming morons call it art   So much fun is not fun any longer   It's all high volume      High volume   As if I was the one to say   If it's right or if it's wrong   Close your eyes until it goes away   Turn it up until you hear the song   She's as sweet as skin, as deep as candy   But if it sells they'll never wonder why   'til the posers and the preachers mate like mongrels   It's all high volume      High volume   High volume