| Plastic scars,
|
| The pig dictifies who you are,
|
| Blonde addiction and your silent scenes,
|
| You run easy in the skin you chain.
|
| You couldn’t laugh for long,
|
| There’s no soul to claim,
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| Never been not a single thing,
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| You’re talking on the book that drives you on.
|
| So reach down far below,
|
| And see yourself explode,
|
| Let’s destroy this common threat,
|
| You better believe I’m gonna dance with the dead!
|
| Constant threats,
|
| You dig deeper in the filthy broil,
|
| The door shuts and then the angel sleeps,
|
| We all know that that’s a damn wrong raid,
|
| You’re talking on the book that drives you on
|
| So reach down far below,
|
| And see yourself explode,
|
| Let’s destroy this common threat,
|
| You better believe I’m gonna dance with the dead!
|
| So reach down far below,
|
| And see yourself explode,
|
| Let’s destroy this common threat,
|
| You better believe I’m gonna dance with the dead!
|
| So reach down far below,
|
| And see yourself explode,
|
| Let’s destroy this common threat,
|
| You better believe I’m gonna dance with the dead!
|
| So reach down far below,
|
| And see yourself explode,
|
| Let’s destroy this common threat,
|
| You better believe I’m gonna dance with the dead! |