Colliding in the stroboscope
Yes, now you see me; now you don't
Tonight I'm dressed in black
I mourn the death of colour

Hopeless, crying in my wine
through happy hour; trace the lines
that crawl across my face
and 'round my eyes

Watch the ballerinas fly
on powder clouds through six dimensions
seeing just the patterns on the wall

Choose your masks and raise your armour
Eyes down for Cheraderama!

Cold eyes searching for a space
that's warm enough to take them through the night
There's only black and white
Express; we never touch (we only press)

Can taste the desperation in your breath
I swear that I'll protect you if you'd only
look into my eyes