One, two, three, four Five, six, seven, eight I am the raping sunglass gaze Of sweating man and escort agencies60's Alienation the anthem of care Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids Slavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodThey dig the new scene and their parties Where Stonehenge is worshiped and drugs a deity Vicarious thrills rerun their youth We follow, we have no voice, the dead Radio nostalgia is radio death I wanna cover diamonds on my wife Hard rock nostalgia the Stones on CDTranquilized icons for the sweet paralyzed Slavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSo cool, the new sound of the decade Thinks it's so fresh not a post Elvis still All taste is nothing old pictures blow dried Rebellion, it always sells at a profit I am a face of fashion in Soho Square My tie is Paul Smith or GaultierMy cheeks blood red as my favorite port But, hey, ******* keeps cholesterol at bay Slavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the God, some God
One, two, three, four Five, six, seven, eight I am the raping sunglass gaze Of sweating man and escort agencies60's Alienation the anthem of care Now a knife constantly slashing eyelids Slavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodThey dig the new scene and their parties Where Stonehenge is worshiped and drugs a deity Vicarious thrills rerun their youth We follow, we have no voice, the dead Radio nostalgia is radio death I wanna cover diamonds on my wife Hard rock nostalgia the Stones on CDTranquilized icons for the sweet paralyzed Slavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSo cool, the new sound of the decade Thinks it's so fresh not a post Elvis still All taste is nothing old pictures blow dried Rebellion, it always sells at a profit I am a face of fashion in Soho Square My tie is Paul Smith or GaultierMy cheeks blood red as my favorite port But, hey, ******* keeps cholesterol at bay Slavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the GodSlavery to the beat Slavery to the chord Slavery to the pleasure Slavery to the God, some God
