I don't see through the mist of ghosts
Slender bodies so gravestone thin
Sea of faces pale from the dealer's #1
Boney visions in a celebrity haunting

So follow the white line to safety
Run for the wartime shelter
An island erased from the map
Bomb ibiza bomb ibiza
Turn on those self-destructo's
and there's no blood on your hands
Bom ibiza bomb ibiza

Reaching for the skeletal hand in strobe
the murderous hand of happy hardcore
remixed the million identikit dancers
spewing forth from their fatslim mouths

Your turn to attend the shining massacre
Dressed in polyester genocidal poison
Sculptures all cracked, clubculture distilled
Each figure a sweating ghost of bone

Cardinal sins sown in the massed crowds
their god the dj descending from borken decks
The anthem dulling anythought in the skull
the sullen waifs expended their souls for a high

Junkie of the commercial tube food
Sick sliding to your stomach pit
Dance poison, memory block so sweet
a dazed stereotype longing for equal abuse

We all atone for another's sins
so whats the fucking point