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