Our life is just a TV show;
We are watched, we are the stars.
People want us to fuck, and they all know
Everything about us.

Our world's a TV studio,
Turn the light on, take the mic.
Who's the host of this sick, revolting show?
We're the hostages tonight.

We're the puppets in the Devil's shrine,
We obey when he commands.
It's so hot in his fane, our makeup runs;
Now we have our own fans.

Let's destroy this TV studio,
We're fed up with this glass dome.
Let's rewrite this cursed scenario,
We must build our real home.

Don't look at our death,
Don't laugh at our tortures.
Don't spit in our faces.
Now we've become the butchers.

We'll cut your clever heads,
We'll eat your brains with bread.
Our freedom has no end,
We take the future in our hands.