- cifra
Artificial red, smoke, poison consumed
In the House of Ill Repute
Is this the way I spend my days
In recovery of a fatal disease?
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
On a cloud of pink has turn to grey
And I'm alone again, yeah
Someone to hold against my own
Alone, untouched is what I crave
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
Artificial red, smoke, poison consumed
In the House of Ill Repute
Is this the place I search for love
When my need is within me, a gift from above?
Oooh... Oooh...
Oooh... Oooh...
