| In the most desolate corner | |
| Bad case of the urban blues | |
| Another brick in the living shadow | |
| All inhale the downward spiral | |
| Get in line for tragic | |
| Let us dance to the pistol magic | |
| Just aim and end another | |
| But think as I rape your mother | |
| Another player joins the table | |
| Who I can or cannot trust | |
| When do we get assigned? | |
| Pure and precious bad intensions | |
| Come and join the show | |
| All the cameras are ready to go | |
| Just aim and end another | |
| But think as I rape your mother | |
| A single step, a garbled life | |
| Where's the profit? | |
| And your rage, the pain | |
| Will it all be worth it? | |
| Genetic, it seems to be | |
| Abandon, the mass ideal | |
| Let's reunite and brush the dust away | |
| We think we're in control | |
| Then we become the things we hate | |
| Let's reunite and brush the dust away | |
| You obtain a prosperous future | |
| And the admiration of all | |
| Act in "the sensations" media hour | |
| All inhale the downward spiral | |
| Genetic, it seems to be | |
| Abandon, the mass ideal | |
| Let's reunite and brush the dust away | |
| We think we're in control | |
| Then we become the things we hate | |
| Let's reunite and brush the dust away |
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