Lyrics:

Every friday at three

shadows escape from the factory.

If you can go to the show,

hurry up and get back to me.

Tonight we meet underground

where the air is thick like mud,

and the bands make noise

that we call audio blood.

Every weekend we're igniting

like chemical fires.

Youth centers fill with teens.

They fill with vampires.

Sweating in the dark we're freed

as the weight of the week

falls away with a thud.

Sweating in the dark we feed

on the forms in the light;

on the floor we're the flood.

We bleed, we bleed, we bleed

Audio blood.



And all through the week,

whispers follow the shadows down the halls.

Our handstamps fade,

and I cringe at the stupid names we're called.

Every weekend we are massing,

seeking sonic escape.

The shadows flood the floor

and start to take shape.



This is how we bleed in audio...

let down your skin,

let the wind blow through your veins.