Useless, apathetic, trading knowledge with a mirror
When a one-way conversation changed from conflict turns to fear
You can shake your fists in anger even though nobody's home
Entertain hallucinations in a hotel room alone
Let go, whoa (One, two, three, four)
Let go, whoa
Leaving bodies on the floor, whoa
A blood junkie's always looking for a score
Walking through the valley down Ventura Boulevard
When I saw some girl beside me selling churros from her car
Then some guy ran up behind her, stealing everything she had
Safe to say I found my fix inside this poorly sharp dressed man
Let go, whoa (One, two, three, four)
Let go, whoa
Leaving bodies on the floor, whoa
A blood junkie's always looking for a score
Let go, whoa (One, two, three, four)
Let go, whoa
Leaving bodies on the floor, whoa
A blood junkie's always looking for a score
A blood junkie's always looking for a score
Just a junkie left here waiting, wanting more