Been weeks I been living, and your smiles are giving me all types of treble.
Weak knees I been given, and those nights are making me starstruck and metal.
Try to be living as your vice, and can you be my type?
'Cause we need to be given a good life, and can I be your type of metal?
Stay free, don’t go,
Cause we don’t need no shows.
Pay for the devil, a plug to a pedal - I’m your type.
Weak knees from the level, I’m sick from the treble - I’m your type of metal.
She’s sweet as battery, man, I got nothin'. You kiss an enemy’s hands, I got nothing.
We got an animal band, and that’s something.
It’s not love if it’s just fucking.
Completed in watercolour, fineline pens and white gel pen.