You can call us traitors to the scene
While you stand in the first row, yet
Seven strings, Techno-Beats, Singing clean
The worst nightmare of true metalheads
The pure sale of your soul
You can show us your scorn
But first show us your bills
Betrayal of the scene-rules
You can dislike us as long
As you donʻt admit
We donʻt deny our roots
We outgrew them
We do not copy trends
We create it
We stand here cause we wanted it that way
No oneʻs forcing you to stay
Obey the words we say
And pay our rent until decay
You can call us traitors to the scene
While you stand in the first row, yet
Seven strings, Techno-Beats, Singing clean
The worst nightmare of true metalheads
Dance to the Sound of Commerce
And be sure it canʻt get worse
Cause we honestly confess
That we want to reach the ma**
We donʻt need any fans
Cause our Haters fill the ranks
Watching us celebrate
Every f**ing note we play
We are beyond you
We get up - you fall
See how your scapegoat
Is overtaking all
This is a f**ing New Wave of Mainstream
A middlefinger to this spineless scene!
Dance to the Sound of Commerce
And be sure it canʻt get worse
Cause we honestly confess
That we want to reach the ma**
We donʻt need any fans
Cause our Haters fill the ranks
Watching us celebrate
Every f**ing note we play