Turn around there´s those eyes again.
Turn around fake indifference and I.
Watch their cold, dark silhouettes disappear.
A hundred bodies fill this room.
And all their faces overdone.
Pain is foreign, foreign to us.
I don´t even know you.
You won´t even know I´m gone.
Was it something I did wrong?
Roses, roses cold.
Roses, roses sold out.
Turn around reds and whites again.
I´d sell my kicks for one more low tar.
Fevers hand in hand with shoelace bracelets.
Why are some girls so naive?
He didn´t unbutton your blouse to see.
A better view of your heart.
Oh yeah, can´t blame you for trying.
Sing it soft.
Make it slow.
Apples parachute the boys back down.
Fill it up.
Overflow.
A new, improved modern way to feel.
I don´t even know you.
You won´t even know I´m gone.
Was it something I did wrong?