Like some girl in a snuff videonWith a chord around her necknAnd her veins full of blownShe's dancing like she doesn't knownThat she's hanging in the morgue with industrialnSo gothed out like Black Number OnenShe'd rather slit her wrists than have some funnShaking her corpse to the same old shitnPlaying it safe is boring, isn't it?nnOi! Mr. DJ, what records are ya going to play?nOi! Mr. DJ, are you gonna play nThe same damn thing that you did yesterday?nnThis ghettonAbysmalnLike gangstasnIn limbonCreationnInvasionnA fortressnA missionnArrestednInfestednThis corpse has been re-animatednPale embrace in a sick romancenIt's dead and gone but still they all dancennEvery day is HalloweennBut it's Halloween stuck in '93nAnd it makes me think of the good old daysnOf Skinny Puppy and MinistrynCombat boots and PVCnDressing up like a scary drag queennIt's dead and gone, so let's move onnIndustrial R.I.P.nnIf you're looking for a zombie fucknThen get your kicks at the club Noc NocnDancing all roboticn120 bpm going tick-tock tick-tocknnUn-dead posers drinking at the barnAnd broken pretty things that can't get very farnAnd the 3 legged dogs that are on the the prancenI say step aside bitches, I'm here to dancennLet's fucking dance