Death Records Paroles

A mask takes shape alone
Whie I see the agent Bond.
Death becomes music biz.
This is lawyer Mary Stark
Calling from Louisville.
Always bad news on bad news.
I'm angry again.
When you're going for success
And all desappears
And a boy gets lost,
How can I smile, how can you'll be shure,
How can!?
Those from the "Death Records" did a fine mess,
Winslow, the guy living in this music score...
Yah, right him again,
He's angry, he's angry again.
How can you look smiling?
Fast, audience go crazy
Sight is getting hazy
And the phantom enters And lights his lucky strike.
... You know they're working so bad,
Making foul CD's.
I'm so bored with this.
I'm angry again, I'm angry.
They and their money,
Their fucking money and their dirty tricks.
The buy sounds to be worn
Like 3-day smelling socks
"What's the best offer for this dead fish?"
I'm angry again, I'm drunk again.
With all this money they can go fucked off!
They say: you rock, your sound is shocking,
Your style could turn satan creepy.
So bombastic, hot and crushing.
Money, money, lots of money
And busty, horny, babes
Ready just for you!
Fast, audience go crazy
Sight's getting hazy
The phantom enters
The scene like a dart.
Mister Bond does not get upset,
While crossing the scene
Blood traced like Tom thumb's
Famous guiding crumbs.
The phantom appears
No suspect come out
Just lights on the stage.
Then, he walks by the door
They see him again
Their eyes full of fear
A last goodbye.