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