It's the night life, that gets them off, so desperately they wait for, the excuse, of love,
We live like vampires,
And we, we, we love like killers,
We all, die like infants,
And, we trust like mirrors,
It's the smoke, and the drinks, and the smiles, that it brings,
It's the pain, and the sex, disguised as innocence,
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do,
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do,
It's the lovers guilt, that forms a habit, of being dramatically, over dramatic,
We live like vampires,
And we, we, we love like killers,
We all, die like infants,
And, we trust like mirrors,
It's the smoke, and the drinks, and the smiles, that it brings,
It's the pain, and the sex, disguised as innocence,
It's the smoke, and the drinks, and the smiles, that it brings,
It's the pain, and the sex, disguised as innocence,
And they sing,
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do,
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do,
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do,
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do,
The songs, they sing, are in, the key, of the illusion of pain and its irony, in the mist of lust, and dropping names. The drugs, they numb, and they keep us sane,
The songs, they sing, are in, the key, of the illusion of pain and its irony, in the mist, of lust, and dropping names, The drugs, they numb, and they keep us sane,
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do
Slow suicide, like it or not, it's what we do
