We're trying to sell anything
Like lunchboxes and yo-yo strings
We must rely on marketing
Because we simply suck now

We all wish Cliff was here today
And we should have kept Dave Mustaine
Guess Jason left because we're lame
So what the hell we do now?

Milk it for all the cash we can
Give us your money

Lars just cares about royalties
We cut our hair and grew goatees
Oh won't you buy St. Anger please?
We need the money to live

Everyone says that we sold out
And forgot what we were about
I guess our future is in doubt
Maybe we should give up

Hold your breath for a good album
And you're gonna die

Now the time has come we are done
Go home Bob Rock
Our career's at the brink of death
Let's just hang it up

Money is food for our greed
All that we see
Is mighty dollar
I cannot play
I cannot sing
Getting too old
Body's getting saggy

Ulrich is losing his mind
Making a speech
At a court hearing
Got flabby arms
Weakening legs
Loosening jowls
Our time's up, ring the bell