A Little tortured fashionista
And her satirical soul-sister
Were getting drunk on ze sangria
And chewing chicken to the bone
No, don't you cry cry cry chico
You know they're not coming home
Because they're bad bad bad chicas
You best be leaving alone
He sent a party out to search them
But he could not find where there they go
Those little ragdolls robbing riches
And slitting throats with stilettos
No, don't you cry cry cry chico
You know they're not coming home
Because they're bad bad bad chicas
You should be leaving alone
That little chico he knew nothing
His heart went rotten on the vine
Those little chickas wore his guts for garters
And mixed his blood into their wine
No, don't you cry cry cry chicas
You know he won't be alone
Because there's more than one chico
Buried under that headstone
They ran away with the nephilim
They ran away with the b-behemoth
They ran away with the cherubim
They made love to the b-behemoth
They ran away with the nephilim