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