| The fading of the sun’s last rays is the signal for invasion to start.
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| Drift toward the spirit centre, ghostly army of the decadent dark.
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| Gorgeous little parasites
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| rulers of the nightlife
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| Moon provides the spotlight
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| And promises of paradise
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| Free yourself from the vicious circle or watch them spread as you drown
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| I’ll be Adam to your Eve, taste forbidden fruits of this town.
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| Depression has a hold on me for I know the meaning of life
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| Revel in the melodrama, pretentious Byronesque plight
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| What we are created for
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| Emperors of the dancefloor
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| Unrepentant skinny whore
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| forcing them to beg for more
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| Free yourself from the viscous circle or watch them spread as you drown
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| I’ll be Adam to your Eve, taste forbidden fruits of this town.
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| Putting on his freaky show
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| The alcoholic Romeo
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| Rejection ain’t a word he knows
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| His shoulder must be cold by now
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| We’re cruising through the discos
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| Bruising lots of egos
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| We know that we’re attractive
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| Our love is so destructive
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| As the daylight world approaches we stalk the streets
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| Dreaming of the carnage that we could inflict
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| We go down the river to watch the dawn,
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| Too much to do and to say, don’t want to be alone.
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| Don’t want to be alone.
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| Too much to do, too much to say, we’re never going home
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| Too much to say, too much to see, we’re never ever going home. |