Roman Holiday Lyrics - New Junk Aesthetic - Every Time I Die

We cut our teeth in the bedroom 

We slit our wrists in our costumes 

All of them witches, witches, witches, witches 

We are the death of the party 

We are the life of the funeral 

All of us ragmen, ragmen, ragmen, ragmen 

I want the ripened fruit 

I want the fresh meat 

I want the first born 

I want the down beat 

We traded vows on the front line 

They ushered us through the stop sign 

All of them witches, witches, witches, witches 

We found our way in the blackout 

We are the ghosts in the lighthouse 

All of us ragmen, ragmen, ragmen, ragmen 

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I want the open wound 

I want the dark street 

I want the virgin blood 

I want the wet heat 

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