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