Don't tell me that
the wages of sin are for real
The writings on the wall
(What's) the score what's the deal?
Don't wonder we can't see
(thru) the wood for the trees
No perfume we design
can ever veil the sickness on the breeze
By The Light of Day
In the Dead of Night
the wages of sin are for real
The writings on the wall
(What's) the score what's the deal?
Don't wonder we can't see
(thru) the wood for the trees
No perfume we design
can ever veil the sickness on the breeze
By The Light of Day
In the Dead of Night