My runway is a narrow flat purgatory,
Coming to life each time I'm gonna move my lips.
My young robot-ladies are marching sinuously,
Trampling on death highways, unmercifully.
I feed them with diamonds and crystalline ice,
Served by doomy footmen with remote-drive-eyes.
I quench them with gold wines and unearthly rain,
Born in royal black halls, islands of pain.
A beautiful day, the audience go wild,
My sex robot-girls are starting the show in
A beautiful way, the moment has come,
Shivers running down the spine, shock music whirl,
A beautiful day, the audience afraid
My fiend robot-girls are spoiling the fun in
A beautiful way, the last final shot
Draws a line between the androids and the crowd.
Dull preys are collapsing and their empty glance
Remains pretty unchanged, lifeless, on a trance.