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Oh, I hate these crippled minds
Too sweet to think, dumb and blind
Filled with yuppie-dreams
Swimming with the stream
Sex, drugs, dancehouse-flair
A bitter taste in the air
Better than the rest
You are the best
Styled to death, ice in the air
Have a taste of dancehouse-flair
We do not think, we do not care
Let's have a taste
Of dancehouse-flair
I'd like to make you disappear
I'd like to teach you how to fear
Yes there's more than bugs
Money, sex and drugs
I meet you when I walk around
Over bloody rich-man's grounds
On every scene
Now in my dreams
Styled to death....
Maybe you will rule this land
With just a single hand
But this shiny world you want to rent
Will be built on sand
I've tried to find
Nice words for you
But this hate-song
Was all I could do
'Cause you're
Styled to death...
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