paroles de chanson Día De Los Muertos - Poorstacy

We're the freaks that only come out at night
The troublemaker kids
Put your bloody fucking fingers in the air
And cut your wrists
I need all the sex, drugs and attention
'Cause I'm a piece of shit
Put your bloody fucking fingers in the air
And cut your wrists
(Put your bloody fucking fingers in the air)

Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die

It's the day of the dead, I forgot all the heckes
Keep the impulse inside with the knife and the smile on my face
When the clock strikes twelve and she casts a spell
I'll be waiting wide awake

Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die

Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die