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All my lady-friends are dead but they are never going to leave I'd give a fortune to the man who could give them breath again But, they remain baggage of the worst kind -nostalgia so delicate They're a cartel from the gates of hell -a malignant syndicate Ladies, give me a sign from the afterlife tell me whether this is right or might it be a base necessity? Sometimes living a life of virtue, joy and devoid pain Though it's often pointed out to me, one devoid of reality I get flashes of being a real man, the sensation never sticks Because I'm convinced that I've been cursed by the undead with whom I share my bed Aus Songtexte Mania