Lyrics:

Murder = White Out
Cancer = Birth Blouse
Mirror = Perfect Glass Spouse
Oil = Sex Paint
Shower = Water Saint
Death decodes the howls from our hands
Skull = Noise Test
TV = Fuck Test
Mirror = Siamese Gun Kiss
Sugar = Birth Bait
Murder = Loves Fate
Death distills the camouflage from our dance
Death inverts the red from romance
Death X-rays the angels of chance
Death, the anti-mirror of infants
Like a picture hiding beneath the digital avalanche
Murder = White Out
Cancer = Birth Blouse
Mirror = Perfect Glass Spouse
Oil = Sex Paint
Shower = Water Saint
Death decodes the howls from our hands

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Yeah!
When Cecilia's grave cracked like a dirt cocoon
She pulled up a stool at the Silhouette Saloon
The player piano's mumbling crippled jigs
Black widows knitting victimless wigs
When Cecilia's throat slit like a second set of lips
She drooled braille bibles onto the brothel bed spread
Like an egg whose yoke defies child-bearing hips
Like a ghost who fears all of the deceased and dead
Time eats at the flesh and spits out the shadow
Like a useless wishbone, like a useless wishbone!
But that locket spinning around her neck
Whose hearth heats a dead valentine
And the paper trail leads way to a muted grave, yeah
To a muted grave, yeah
Where's his voice now? = A dead tone in the flutter of drunken wings
Where is his blushed cheek now? = A face unraveled in shadow, veiled in blind laughter
Where are those sex ripened lips? = His kiss print still warm on several necks
Where is love now? Where is love now?

Where is love now? Bah-bah-boo-bah-bo-bo
Where is love now? A-bah-bah-boo-bo
Where is love now? Bah-bah-boo-bah-bo-bo
Where is love now? Bah-bah-boo-bo
Where is love now? Bah-bah-boo-bah-bo-bo
Where is love now? Bah-bah-boo-bo
Murder = White Out
Cancer = Birth Blouse
Mirror = Perfect Glass Spouse
Oil = Sex Paint
Shower = Water Saint
Death decodes the howls from our hands
Skull = Noise Test
TV = Fuck Test
Mirror = Siamese Gun Kiss, yeah
Sugar = Birth Bait
Murder = Loves Fate
Death distills the camouflage from our dance
Death inverts the red from romance
Death X-rays the angels of chance
Death, the anti-mirror of infants
Like a picture hiding beneath the digital avalanche
Like a picture hiding beneath the digital avalanche!
Like a picture hiding beneath the digital avalanche!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Yeah!