Leather and chrome, we don’t play nice, Crowd goes deaf when we roll the dice. Gasoline glitter flash and flame, Stage on fire when they scream our name. Ripped from the gutter with a gold-laced sneer, We’re the noise your nightmares fear. Gasoline glitter loud and mean, Born to burn through your silver screen. Smoke in the halls, mirrors cracked, Setlists written like a heart attack. We don’t fade, we detonate, Every show’s a crime scene, check the tape. No gods, no rules, no stage too small, We break it, take it, own it all. Six wild hearts, one red room, Blowin’ out speakers, crashin' doom. You want clean? We serve dirt, Dressed in glitter and glam and hurt. Gasoline glitter steel and kiss, Every note a loaded fist. We ain’t a band, we’re a goddamn riot Red Room lives, you can’t deny it. I'm trapped in this claustrophobic cell all's hell, all's well that ends well, tell a prayer for the layers of confusion I withheld cellular processes iterating into the stellar space of my mind, every neuron an impeller of motive and means from the dweller the disinterrer come to exhume your demons, see? the room is red, but the world is a panoply of varied color smattered upon the canopy of your phenomenological persuasion bitch this ain't the last but this ain't no station even beginning to resemble innovation im a kleptomaniac stealing your memories away eternal sunshine of your spotless mainstay waylay the pathways until you know the gameplay stay lost in the sauce, you trapped all along to wit but don't worry it's not the worst position to inhabit it's just the movement going through this as a combatant classy actions who do you think you really are you lost all up in the reverie you think you Goin far? keep swinging and hoping you might make par the stars might align and design some new arrangement invoking the state of affairs that maintains containment but are you too lost all up in the good old derangement? I wonder what it is you have left to accomplish in a room of crimson memories admonished you really want to know what it's like to be demonic? canonically, this is is quite possibly something despondent my advice: you should probably just remain laconic and don't let yourself get too lost in the ironic comic relief, we are thus here caught in the berth of a comet exploding our reality into something grotesque tonic clonic here I am waiting, debating, cruisin the psionic
