Kill the DJ Walking after dark in a New York City park Your thoughts are so unholy in the holiest of old On with Christian soldiers filled with jivin' mind-control
The blood left on the dancefloor running, running red The bullet that you asked for killing you to death Unless you...
Someone kill the DJ, Shoot the fucking DJ Voices in my head are saying, «Shoot the fucker down».
We are the vultures The dirtiest kind They cut you once In your heart and your mind
Walking after dark In the New York City park I'll pick up what's left in the club, a pocket full of pills Sodom and Gommorah, in the century of thrills