The Bacchanal Affair

Tonight, we’re drunk upon our nostalgia
So raise a glass to the black maria
Through laughter seems to soothe the pain of adoring what I violate
I’m sick to death by the irony and all the lies that we create
When we’re feigning every red letter day
(chorus)
The chemicals aid in our neglect, feigning all of adoration
Destined it seems for this disease, becoming all I loathed
Feigning all our adoration
Dissembling passion, Our foreplay to debauchery
A perfume of zinfandel and coffin nails
Intoxicates, fair Judas goat, now you’ve got your sheep
I’m sick to death by the irony and all the lies that we create
When we’re feigning every red letter day
(chorus)
Track marks and a trail of hearts will guide you home,
There is a bleak horizon everywhere I roam (x2)
(chorus)
Track marks and a trail of hearts will guide you home,
There is a bleak horizon everywhere I roam (x2)