Letra de Roman Holiday
We cut our teeth in the bedroom We slit our wrists in our costumes All of them Witches Witches Witches WitchesWe are the death at the party We are the life of the funeral All of us Ragmen Ragmen Ragmen RagmenI want the ripened fruit I want the fresh meat I want the first born I want the down beatWe traded vows on the front line They ushered us through the stop sign All of them Witches Witches Witches WitchesWe found our way in the blackout We are the ghosts in the lighthouse All of us Ragmen Ragmen Ragmen RagmenI want the open wound I want the dark street I want the virgin blood I want the wet heat