| You’re soaking wet in the middle of a dry spell |
| The cold sex and the boredom sells |
| Heat-seeker, pull the curtain down |
| The death pangs and the wedding vows |
| This trash is fucking contagious |
| It runs through every inch of my veins |
| Turn the music off, pull the covers down |
| The death mask is a bridal veil |
| You’re so cool, you snuff out all the verve |
| You don’t feel much but you’ve got every nerve |
| Tell the kids, boy, what’s it’s like to be stoned? |
| Like I don’t know, oh, I know |
| I’ve got a right to know |
| I’ve got a right to know |
| I’ve got a right to know |
| I’ve got a right to know |
| Snake charmer, going out through the trapdoor |
| The black sheep the lost boys are waiting for |
| Fashion martyr, walk the catwalk |
| Your knees buckled from the weight of the cross |
| This trash is fucking contagious |
| It runs through every inch of my veins |
| Turn the music off, pull the covers down |
| The death mask is a bridal veil |
| You’re so cool, you snuff out all the verve |
| You don’t feel much but you’ve got every nerve |
| Tell the kids, boy, what’s it’s like to be stoned? |
| Like I don’t know, oh, I know |
| I got a black cloud above me too |
| And I got lungs to match |
| This trash is fucking contagious |
| It covers every broken inch of my bones |
| Turn the music off, pull the covers down |
| The death bed is the marital tomb, so cold |