She's a tramp and he's a loser

In a smoky bar from kafka's darkest dreams

And the critics know what crap is hip to swallow

It's all high volume

Her leather comes off in the back room

And a million screaming morons call it art

So much fun is not fun any longer

It's all high volume



High volume

As if I was the one to say

If it's right or if it's wrong

Close your eyes until it goes away

Turn it up until you hear the song

She's as sweet as skinas deep as candy

But if it sells they'll never wonder why

'til the posers and the preachers mate like mongrels

It's all high volume



High volume

High volume