Testo di Freakbeat Phantom

Resting himself on his crutches, suspicious stories which are fake Laughter was growing around in a stranger's sound Holding his stutter in his hands and carving his words to demands Psychotic byonic he was as he splutters his words Touched by the freakbeating phantom, I'm holding on Confusion cuts in the air, if I was granted one wish I'd whisk off the girl with the white jeans for a singles night's bliss Revising thoughts of stately homes as the party continues The bright lights eluminates the, the freakbeat eluminates the night