It's the nightlife that gets off; So desperately they for the excuse of love. We live like And we, we, we like killers; We all die infants, And we trust mirrors.
It's the smoke and the drinks and the that it brings, It's the pain and the sex as innocence.
Slow suicide...like it or not, it's we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, what we do.)
It's the love of guilt that the habit Of being over-dramatic. We live vampires And we, we, we love killers; We all die infants, And we trust mirrors.
It's the smoke and the drinks and the smiles it brings, the pain and the sex disguised as innocence. It's the and the drinks and the smiles that it brings, (It's a desperate place for a desperate people to find their place before heroes) It's the pain and the sex as innocence. (A desperate place for a desperate...and sing)
x2] Slow suicide...like it or not, it's we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, what we do.) Slow suicide...like it or not, what we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, what we do.)
x2] The songs sing are in the key Of the illusion of and its irony. In the of lust and dropping names The drugs they and they keep us sane.
x2] Slow suicide...like it or not, what we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, what we do.) Slow suicide...like it or not, what we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, it's we do.)