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Let the brushes puke multi-colors on your face The mirror grins and condones in your disgrace Wrap that silver noose around your neck Apply those bling-bling manacles With the shiny rocks, and the whatchacalls Bake yourself to a preferred pigment Step out to your pulsating pervert audience Their erections give you your round of applause Maybe its me and my lack of common fashion sense But your commercial fabrics not made of substance SongtexteDrowning yourself in the table of contents Your personality was made by poor foreigners Your personality was found dead by coroners Mummify yourself in their arrogant slogans Take a bow Do a one-eighty Show some ass The curtain falls With your self-esteem in tow Revlons fist giving you two black eyes? Love being embraced, eaten by your thighs All sedated by a drinking binge Maybe it's me and my lack of common fashion sense But your fabric's not made of any substance Drown yourself in the table of contents Aus Songtexte Mania