Lyrics
dance, dance, that's enough, a modern concussion, the room is on fire, you're an upstanding model, of a modern day cain, with impeccable style, so now you've done a little wrong, and you need to be forgiven, by the vicar and the company you keep, and then you conjure up a fiction, to get the pretty girl to listen, this is the sin, that i will confess to release myself, from consequence, and everyone can tell, the moral objections, to something so profane, oh but the deepest of convictions, are the darkest positions, little remissions for the varicose vain, so now you've done a little wrong, and you swear you didn't do it, but volition left you burdened with a curse, and then you conjure up a fiction, to get the pretty girls to listen, this is the sin, that i will confess to release myself, from consequence, and everyone can tell, this is the sin, that i will confess to release myself, from consequence, and everyone can tell, this is the sin, that i will confess to release myself, from consequence, and everyone can tell, and everyone can tell, and everyone can tell