Collective Suicide In The Boudoir

The razor is sharp
The mirror is cracked
Angels playing harp
And my suitcase is packed
The light is dim
By bottle cries for kisses
My razor is trim
And they both tire me with their hisses
I slice myself a smile and let it flow
(Slice! Slice! Slice! Slice!)
Some angels smile. Some others' tears flow
And they all wait for a while
And some even help me with my suitcase
And I. Bothered though flattered.
Let them and enjoy the night
And I cannot shake off the sentiment that I am feeling quite wonderful tonight
Slice yourself a smile and let it flow
(Slice! Slice! Slice! Slice!)