• Mixin' with the lot,
    With a love that is so demanding,
    You look in the mirror and you don't like what you see,
    You might find out first hand,
    Bright lights make shadows.


    Come one, come all,
    To this tragic affair,
    Wipe off that make up,
    What's in is despair,
    So throw on the black dress,
    And kiss this goodbye.


    I encourage your smiles,
    I expect you won't cry,
    I said to save me,
    Get me the hell out of here,
    Just walk away and take me.



    DEAD!