Traducere: Marilyn Manson. Anii de aur (Ost. Dead Man on Campus).
SCABARET SACRILEGENDS This is the Golden Age of Grotesque We're the LOW ART GLOOMINATI And we aim to depress The SCABARET SACRILEGENDS This is the Golden
the shadows in these golden years I'll stick with you baby for a thousand years Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years, gold Golden years, gold
: "Ladies and Gentlemen" We are the thing of shapes to come Your freedom's not free and dumb This Depression is Great The Deformation Age, they know
: I am overground and Out-selling IT. Since God thinks I don't exist The Beatings happen Per Minute This is not Blue-collar-white-corrective politics
: Doll-dagga buzz-buzz ziggety-zag Godmod grotesk burlesk drag All the goose-step girlies with Their cursive faces and We know it's all Braille beneath
: I don't care if your world is ending today I wasn't invited to it anyway You said I tasted famous, so I drew you a heart But now I'm not an artist
: The beauty spot was borrowed and Now my sweet knife rusts tomorrow . I'm a confession that is waiting to be heard. Burn your empty rain down on me
: I'll pretend that I want you For what is on the inside But when I get inside, I'll just want to get out I'm your first and last deposit Through sickness
: Everything has been said before There's nothing left to say anymore When it's all the same You can ask for it by name Babble babble bitch bitch Rebel
: (THE WOMEN OF THE WORLD LIST THEIR REASONS FOR FUCKING ME) MY RESPONSE IS AS FOLLOWS: Fuck you because i loved you Fuck you for loving you too I don
: Haters call bitch Call me faggot call me whitey But I am something that you'll never be (Hey) I won't look prettier if I smile for the picture Motherfuckers
: I wake up everyday on The wrong side of the bed But I won't lay down on the floor Like I'm the whore in your head Call me a failure Pretender, sex
: We'll be the worms in your apple pie Fake abuse for our bios Blacken our own eyes The grass isn't greener on the other side We set it on fire And we
: We're a death-marching band Peter Pan off the wagon Entertain but never trust anyone sober We're tasteless but taste good My (S)top Hat's top hat(ed
shadows in these golden years I'll stick with you baby for a thousand years Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years, gold Golden years, gold