Lyrics:

Zyclone B. Bathouse a perfect place for cleansing ethnically.
Train ride provided, although the fare
only sports the under class.
As the train goes by, they'll turn away.
Only doppler is effected, not their hearts,
with a 'better them than me' and a 'better off this way.'
Ronald McDonald-paint a happy face on a McMurderer.
Same train, same station.
This time the cars are corporate not fascist state.
What is life, quality or quanity?
Since when does that get decided by majority?
And who's more decent, on man or a dozen?