It's the that gets them off; So desperately wait for the excuse of love. We live vampires And we, we, we love like We all die infants, And we like mirrors.
It's the and the drinks and the smiles 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, what we do.)
It's the love of that forms the habit Of dramatically over-dramatic. We like vampires And we, we, we love like We all die infants, And we trust 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 that it brings, (It's a desperate place for a desperate people to their 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, 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 keep us sane.
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, it's we do. (Slow suicide...like it or not, it's we do.)