Trained in the art
Of devastating the arts by remaining unmoved in their midst
We came down, down, down from that high, oh, and now we're looking for more
We're bloodless now, and we are uninterrupted by the majesty of it all
We're passed around, around, around like the currency of the friendless roads

One trick pony
And the parlor
Isn't big enough for the both of us

'Til death do we rock
We're so full of shit
'Til death do we rock
You keep buying it
'Til death do we rock
You're so full of shit
'Til death do we rock
You're still buying it

The closed circuit of stimulus
That runs between fashion and guilt
Is winding tighter around the heart
Our orbits are collapsing upon themselves
We're retreating into the vogue
Where we're sucking the blood from the necks of guitars
Beg for the scraps of prose that piled up behind the bar
Though we try and try and try
We get the melodies wrong but we remember the words
We're parasites but we are delicate in the way we wear each other down
We were oh so close to the start when they finished us

Aim the mast at the ground
Aim the mast at the ground
And sail us into the belly of the whale

'Til death do we rock
We're so full of shit
'Til death do we rock
You keep buying it

The closed circuit of stimulus
That runs between fashion and guilt
Is winding tighter around the heart
Our orbits are collapsing upon themselves
But we stand in the traffic indifferent to the grand histrionics of God, unmoved