| Tonight, we’re drunk upon our nostalgia
|
| So raise a glass to the black maria
|
| Through laughter seems to soothe the pain of adoring what I violate
|
| I’m sick to death by the irony and all the lies that we create
|
| When we’re feigning every red letter day
|
| (chorus)
|
| The chemicals aid in our neglect, feigning all of adoration
|
| Destined it seems for this disease, becoming all I loathed
|
| Feigning all our adoration
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| Dissembling passion, Our foreplay to debauchery
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| A perfume of zinfandel and coffin nails
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| Intoxicates, fair Judas goat, now you’ve got your sheep
|
| I’m sick to death by the irony and all the lies that we create
|
| When we’re feigning every red letter day
|
| (chorus)
|
| Track marks and a trail of hearts will guide you home,
|
| There is a bleak horizon everywhere I roam (x2)
|
| (chorus)
|
| Track marks and a trail of hearts will guide you home,
|
| There is a bleak horizon everywhere I roam (x2) |