Print

We caught our teeth in the bedroom We slit our wrists on our custom dollar bill Witches, witches, withes, witches We are the death of the party We are the life of the funereal, all of us Bring this, bring this, bring this I want the righteous roots I want the fresh meat I want the first born I want the dead beat We traded poses on flood lights The stop sign all of this Witches, witches, witches, witches We found our way in the black out We are the ghosts in the lighthouse all of us Bring this, bring this, bring this I walk the open road I walk the dark streets I walk the... I walk the west heat Aus Songtexte Mania