To steal the wind from your lungs 
To take the breath from your lips 
I am trafficking bliss 
I sell wholesale with a kiss 
I am a dealer of words 
I'll suck the buzz from your scene 
And sell it right back to you 
Before I get away clean 
Before I get away clean
This is your stereo 
And your speakers are blown 
In this scenario 
We are the Guns of Navarone 
This is a mutiny 
This is a masquerade 
This is the pin pulling from a ticking hand grenade

Shoot each word into your veins 

Sing until you can't feel pain 
You're going down hard 
You're going down fast 
You're going down like this might be your last
We are your own parasite 
A wind blown pilot light 
Sinking like a lead balloon
Something you cooked in a spoon 
This a firing line 
This is Sweet Caroline 
This is a slot machine 
This is a prison camp 
Minus any Steve McQueen

To bind up the brokenhearted 
We came here to bleed 
To bind up the brokenhearted
You know what you need