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