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Might fall in love, but its dead tonight.
Gonna make it right.
Feel your lungs get tight.
Blankets and sheets canât hold the heat.
Hearts will barely beat on these easy streets.
One, Two.
Canât see straight but youâre breakinâ on through.
Three, Four.
Losing your touch on the bathroom floor.
All your life has been a cryinâ shame.
Nobodyâs gonna know your name.
We all want someone to love.
Early morning, everybody feels unholy.
Livinâ with plastic souls, we are
Backseat lovers jumping out the window.
The sunâs up soon.
Its gonna back hand the moon.
And, the song of the sorry I your signature tune.
Breaking apart, we wait for the dark,
As the cries of mercy extinguish the spark.
One, Two.
Canât see straight but youâre breakinâ on through.
Three, Four.
Losing your touch on the bathroom floor.
And so we bury ourselves to the neck, in cement.
Of numbers, and letters and flesh we repent.
And the bastards (the slime) get rich and decayâ¦
As they shake for a drug, at the start of their day.
And I suppose its been proven.
That satellites watch our every move..
Tape machines on public corners.
1âs and 0âs breathing for us.
But ask anyone in a falling elevator.
Does the steel and the mirror, and the glass make it clearer?
All your life has been a cryinâ shame.
Nobodyâs gonna know your name.
We all want someone to love.
Early morning, everybody feels unholy.
Livinâ with plastic souls, we are
Backseat lovers jumping out the window.