Oh there's a sun of mud On the future is rising it's rising Not a stone throw from today Oh cellmate what are you thinking Rock and roll rock and roll Ideological product Oh the mob expects malnutrition Robots are guarding that old ribcage fashion Flamin' torches, pick axe handles Looking down the water cannon of pop music Rock and roll is pop music For the credit card hospital Oh godfather I'm not joking Can't you see the son is choking? Can't you see that he's been smoking? Too much, too much