The atmosphere's strange out on the town
Music for pleasure, it's not music no more
Music to dance to, music to move
This is music to march to
It's a wardance, a wardance
Look at the victim scrawled on the wall
You know the, the reason
Outside the door you got something
Nasty in your mind, trying to get out
It's a wardance, a wardance
We walk round the pitch, honesty is sick
Try to be honest, look what you get
The food runs short and then the money talks
One way out, your premonition is correct