With a wink and a nod look, we're all giving favors   There's four pale pinked boys in an accountants hand   Examples must be made, discipline must be maintained   We're all a little mad here what a joy it is to kill      Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds   Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds   'Cause at the top of the world, we're all just the bottom line      Someone's been shook red-handed   Dead stage center at the shit-grin parade   Beware, beware, beware of an aging pack of men   Who think like cats, wow      And it ain't be part of the future   A pox on your phony kings   And all night while you slumber   You'll dream of electric sheep      Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds   Kill all my hunger in three minutes and thirty seconds   'Cause at the top of the world, we're all just the bottom line      For we may perish at the hands we must shake   Our bodies longing for the aches to escape   In the filth they'll accept is the filth   I'm dragging my belly through      For we may perish at the hands we must shake   Our bodies longing for the aches to escape   In the filth they'll accept is the filth   I'm dragging my belly through      'Cause we're being drowned out in our own fucking sound   Now the teenage brigade has opinions   And I can't get respect 'cause I'm not at the bar   And the teenage brigade has opinions      When I'm weak it is bleak and they're all capping me   With their cold metal clutch on us tightly   And I can't get respect 'cause I'm not at the bar   And the teenage brigade has opinions      So get hip to recouping with youth   At the bottom of a rabbit's hole      Do we all sound like this   Do we all sound like this