It's the nightlife gets them off; So desperately wait for the excuse of love. We like vampires And we, we, we love like We all die infants, And we like mirrors.
It's the smoke and the drinks and the smiles it brings, It's the and the sex disguised as innocence.
Slow suicide...like it or not, it's we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, it's we do.)
the love of guilt that forms the habit Of dramatically over-dramatic. We like vampires And we, we, we love killers; We all die infants, And we trust mirrors.
It's the smoke and the and the smiles that it brings, It's the pain and the sex 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 place before desperate heroes) It's the and the sex disguised as innocence. (A desperate place for a desperate...and sing)
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, what 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 they numb and they keep 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, it's we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, it's we do.)