| Trained in the art of devastating the arts by remaining unmoved in their midst
|
| We came down, down, down from that high, oh, and now we’re looking for more
|
| We’re bloodless now, and we are uninterrupted by the majesty of it all
|
| We’re passed around, around, around like the currency of the friendless roads
|
| One trick pony
|
| And the parlor isn’t big enough for the both of us
|
| 'Til death do we rock?
|
| We’re so full of shit
|
| 'Til death do we rock!
|
| You keep buying it
|
| 'Til death do we rock?
|
| You’re so full of shit
|
| 'Til death do we rock!
|
| You’re still buying it
|
| The closed circuit of stimulus that runs between fashion and guilt is winding
|
| tighter around the heart
|
| Our orbits are collapsing upon themselves
|
| We’re retreating into the vogue where we’re sucking the blood from the necks of
|
| guitars
|
| Beg for the scraps of prose that piled up behind the bar
|
| Though we try and try and try we get the melody wrong but we remember the words.
|
| We’re the parasites but we are delicate in the way we bring each other down
|
| We were oh so close to the start when they finished us
|
| Aim the mast at the ground, x2
|
| And sail us to the belly of the whale
|
| 'Til death do we rock!
|
| We’re so full of shit
|
| 'Til death do we rock!
|
| You keep buying it
|
| The closed circuit of stimulus that runs between fashion and guilt is winding
|
| tighter around the heart
|
| Our orbits are collapsing upon themselves but we stand in the traffic
|
| indifferent to the grand histrionics of god, unmoved |