| The masquerade is a show for the starcrowds
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| It’s death in vogue in saturnalian nights
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| The heart we share is a virus in our chests
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| A black piece filled with darkness and dead meat
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| Now our hearts beat on
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| The black is back in the deep
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| I see a million of nations
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| In blank and hot leather…
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| This black syndicate is a burning ballroom
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| Dirt, drinks and pills and Gucci drenched in blood
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| The flag we raise is held for the dead dolls
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| So now we’ll watch all angels parade in black uniforms
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| Now our hearts beat on
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| The black is back in the deep
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| I see a million of nations
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| In blank and hot leather
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| Puppets without strings
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| Now Join the show
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| Demons without wings
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| We are death in Vogue
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| Ten tons of lungs roar into the black vault
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| It’s disease, glam and champagne filled with nails
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| The syndrome is sucked into white bloodcells
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| And we march as vamps and wolves on red human oil
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| The faceless ones…
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| The leather swept ones that bring hate in tons
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| The faceless ones…
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| The subversion of laws through the rule of guns
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| Here they come as the models and machines
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| And see the dolls twist inside of their dreams
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| I see the puppets whisper with manic tongues
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| Feel it, scream it out from the top of your lounges! |