Cheap Thrills

We live behind bricks and pretty little machines,

Where dirty faces are wiped clean,

And happiness is measured by the numbers found on screen,

Devoid of emotion with static noises erupting from scarred throats,

Swallowing anything with the promise of an antidote,

Monotone voices with no change in tone,

We washed our profane mouths out with soap.

A little taste of Heaven on my lips,

A little splash of color on my fingertips,

I'm going to paint your face with my impure life,

Kiss your brittle veins till they bleed a vivid color,

Pollute your lungs with a breath of fresh smoke-fused summer,

Cloud your mind with a flood of compulsive thoughts,

Splatter your uniform heart with capricious feelings,

Drown your demons without needing those happy little pills,

'Cause baby you're addicted to a city full of cheap thrills.