積分
演出藝人
Thursday
演出者
Geoff Rickly
聲樂
Tom Keeley
吉他
Steve Pedulla
吉他
Tim Payne
低音吉他
Tucker Rule
鼓
Andrew Everding
電子琴
Gerard Way
和聲
詞曲
Geoff Rickly
作曲
Tom Keeley
作曲
Steve Pedulla
作曲
Tim Payne
作曲
Tucker Rule
作曲
製作與工程團隊
Sal Villanueva
製作人
Tim Gilles
混音師
Dr. Timo G. Less
母帶工程師
Joe Pedulla
錄音師
Arun Venkatesh
錄音師
Lee Zappas
助理錄音師
歌詞
Don't even take a breath
The air is cut with cyanide
In honor of the New Year
The press gives us 'cause to celebrate
The air raid sirens
Bomb wired skylines
My artificial night
As we sleep to burn the red from our bloodless eyes
Tonight we're all time bombs
On fault lines
Have we lost everything now?
Walking like each other's ghosts around these silent streets
The sedatives tell you everything is alright
Like calendars dying at New Year's Eve parties
As we kiss hard on the lips and swear
This year will be better than the last
Jet black, the ink that spells your name
Jet black, the blood that's in your veins
Jet black, we say
"How long can we take this chance not to celebrate?"
There's music playing
But we dance to the beat of our own black hearts
And draw diagrams of suicide on each other's wrists
Then trace them with razorblades
Fire to flames strike match
Burn these words from our lips
As the dagger screams "Love is dead"
And it's a newspaper tragedy
(Have, lost, what we love)
Have we lost, have we lost what we love
(Said, said everything)
Have we said have we said everything
(Now, does, anything)
Does it change does it change anything?
Stare at the clock avoid at all costs, this emptiness
Have we lost everything now?
Walking like each other's ghosts around these silent streets
The sedatives tell you everything is alright
Like calendars dying at New Year's Eve parties
As we kiss hard on the lips and swear
This year will be better than the last
Have we lost everything now?
Walking like each other's ghosts around these silent streets
The sedatives tell you everything is alright
Like calendars dying, New Year's Eve parties
As we kiss hard on the lips and swear
That, this year, this year
Ten seconds left until midnight
Nine chances to drown ourselves in black hair dye
Eight faces turned away from the shock
Seven windows and six of them were locked
Five stories falling forever and ever
Three cheers to the mirror now there are two of us
Can we have one last dance?
Jet black, the ink that spells your name
Jet black, the blood that's in your veins
Jet black, we say "How long can we take this chance not to celebrate?"
Jet black, the ink that spells your name
Jet black, the blood that's in your veins
Jet black, we say "How long can we take this chance not to celebrate?"
Written by: Geoff Rickly, Steve Pedulla, Tim Payne, Tom Keeley, Tucker Rule
