In the year-of-our-lord twenty-hundred-eighteen The youth of the west ain't hungry, they're mean All body, no spirit, their words aren't their own The loss of their soul is force-fed, home-grown A culture of corrosion where the worst only sticks And if you're of age, you're lumped into the pits Enthralled with pride, kneel to the altar of sloth Too blasé for words, too caught up to stop Ooh, all I need To tear this world up, watch it bleed Ooh, what I need Is just a touch of acid I will never surrender, or join in their game They all start out different, then end up the same I am the drop of acid in this culture of brick I burn through the shallows where the worst only stick Ooh, all I need To burn through this world, watch it bleed Ooh, what I need Is just a touch of acid Bleed me! Bleed me! Make my blood run, ha! You lie on your backs As I piss on your fun Rip it! And as time passes on, year after year There's no sign of progress as they thrive off of fear Firmer and thicker, the mixture does churn So brighter and hotter the acid does burn All I need To bring this world down to its knees Ooh, what I need Is just a touch Of acid