I was poor bio-engineer And working hard all days in the State Scientific-Research Center I was poor! I was an honest tax payer And I got down on my knees and started to pray.
OH! LORD!
And Lord said: Leave your job! Big cash in narco-business You must synthesize new drug And sell to the trance clubs!
And I left my job I found bio-component in the corpses It was ptomaine And synthesized the great psychedelic drug from it This drug became bestseller on trance and rave parties And I became rich and famous But good corpse is so hard to find!
I wake up at 10 And I dig the grave Every fuckin’ day I dig hundred graves Corpses are everywhere Corpses are everywhere I don’t fuckin’ care I don’t fuckin’ care I’ll make a lot of drugs Make a lot of drugs Aphrodisiacs Aphrodisiacs
Everyone should try his best To be necessary for the rest So my friend and I have own work We dig graves, dig ground and chalk Then extract beneath the coffins Poison, listening the corpses’ laughing Then we work the poison up Just to place it into cup Where we synthesize new drugs Which we sell to the trance clubs Make a really lot of money Make it funky, make it funny