All language subtitles for American.Horror.Story.S05E02.Chutes.and.Ladders.1080p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

(gasps)

You lied.

I'm not free.

Well, you got that right,
asshole.

It's your own
damned fault,

thinking you could
cheat death.

Mm-mm.

(clicks tongue)

(sobs quietly)

WOMAN (echoing faintly):
Help...

Help!

(screams)

Help!

Help!

(sobs)

Help!

(sucking noises)

Help!

Help!

Can't you shut her up?

I can hear her
through the duct.

Did you forget
a cop is staying here?

He's away at work.
(Agnetha whimpering)

She'll stop.

She always gives up
after a minute.

(Agnetha falls silent)
See?

Yuck.

Tastes gross.

That's 'cause she's dead.

Stop.

(humming quietly)

It's a horror!

I'll have to use ammonia
to refresh these linens.

I've always admired
the Swedes and their chocolate.

It's a wonder
they stay so thin.

Chocolate's the Swiss.

(flies buzzing)

(whirring)

Get some juice
and cookies.

(opera playing)

That's the last of it.

Thank you.

Where's Donovan?
Getting dressed,
I hope.

It's just been a while
since I've seen him--

THE COUNTESS:
You're torturing that woman.

I was a junkie because I wanted
to escape from my mother.

You made it so I never can.

Why haven't you changed?

We're going to miss the opening.

We don't have space
for any more art.

Ah...

Besides...

you don't have the money, babe.

We're not going
for the art, dumbass.

We're going for the hunt.

We just fed.

Come on.
Let's stay in.

We could binge-watch
House of Cards.

¶ ¶

¶ ¶

¶ Caressing the marble
and stone ¶

¶ Love that was special
for one ¶

¶ The waste
and the fever and hate ¶

¶ How I wish you were
here with me now. ¶

ALEX:
You're very brave, Max.

We're almost done here.

MRS. ELLISON:
Do you think that
this could be strep?

I looked on WebMD
and they said...

Stay off the Internet.

It'll only make your head spin.

Can you breathe in for me, Max?

(inhales, coughs)

He sounds terrible, doesn't he?

(Max coughing)

Hang in there.

We're gonna get you all better.

Don't worry.

I'm just gonna talk to your
mom for a minute, okay?

Your son has the measles.

Oh, the measles?

Thank God.

I thought it was
something serious.

The measles are serious,
Mrs. Ellison.

And completely unnecessary.

If you had followed my advice

and had Max vaccinated,
then we wouldn't be...

We did what
we thought was right.

Okay? All that stuff out there

about how vaccines
can lead to autism,

how they can
actually kill people...

Measles
kill people.

Children.

Millions in the
developing world,

until pretty
recently.

But you don't live in the
developing world, Mrs. Ellison.

You live on the West Side
of Los Angeles.

And believe me, there are
plenty of real threats

right outside these doors
for you to be worried about.

Look, our children are at risk
from so much in this world.

We can never protect them from
all of it.

But when there's something
we can do

to make them just a little
bit safer, we do it.

So what's the treatment?

There isn't one.

Tylenol to keep
his fever down,

lots of liquids.

And rest.

Something you
won't be getting

in the next couple
weeks, I'm afraid.

Call me if his
fever spikes again.

Okay.

(radio starts playing
"Body and Soul")

(radio shuts off)

(knocking at door)

Turndown service?

No.

(exhales)

(gasps)

("Body and Soul" playing)

(panting)

(flies buzzing)

(gasps)

("Body and Soul" playing)

(muffled sounds of breathing,
crackling)

(ghostly rushing sounds)

Holden!

Holden!

Holden!

Holden!

Holden!

Holden...

SALLY:
Are you looking for someone?

I guess not.

SALLY:
This place is bat-shit crazy,
you know.

Weird things go down,
especially at night.

You look like
you could use a drink.

Oh.

I know that look.

Hanging onto your sobriety
like it's the last train

out of Dodge.

Bring him a ginger ale,
Cleopatra.

The hour between 2:00 and 3:00
a.m. is always the worst.

So I take it
you live here?

I do.

How long?

Too long.

And I'm not a hooker

if that's
what you're wondering.

I wasn't.

I can't help
but wonder how come--

How come a girl like me ends
up with tracks in her arms

living in this dump?

That's one way to put it.

Patti Smith said that my poems

were like glass shattering.

I wrote a song with her.

And then she wrote me off.
(laughs)

Why?

'Cause of the smack?

Getting high used to be like
how you imagine heaven.

Pure light.

The perfection of it all.

Even in me.

Then I got lost.

Kept trying to climb higher.

Get closer to that light.

Like an endless ladder
where all you do

is get further
and further away.

There's a part of you that wants
to get lost, am I right?

Climb that ladder.

Tell me
about your very last

drunk.

What kind of day was it?

I like details.

Started like most days.

Multiple homicide
in Glassell Park.

Dad here spent
the year in prison

for second-degree
assault.

We figure he couldn't
take the pressure,

so he poisons them all,

and blows his brains out.

(indistinct radio transmission)

(helicopter flying outside)

Well, at least
they died peacefully.

Broccoli.

Somebody cared.

What happens to a man,

makes him murder
his own kids?

He didn't.

His power had been turned off,

so he brings in
a portable generator

so his kids can stay warm.

Comes back from his night shift

finds his whole family dead

from carbon monoxide poisoning.

That's enough
to make a man shoot himself.

(gunshot)

I had two kids
at the time.

Holden and Scarlett.

I didn't make
it back home

for two days.

Then the day I came home,

I took the family
to the beach.

Some kind of
desperate gesture

to earn my wife's
forgiveness.

(laughs)

It almost worked.

Holden! Holden!

But my son...

Holden?

I lost him.

I can't afford to get lost.

So, you were right
about our Bel Air vic.

He was pumped full
of male potency drugs.

Near lethal dose.

They still have him
in the induced coma.

Something interesting though.

Both victims had the same
text on their cell phone.

Each asking the other to
meet them at the Bel Air.

Only, they didn't
send them to each other.

You mean a third party
spoofed both their numbers?

Our killer has
some tech savvy.

That's your mom.

We have to go.

John, you have a package.

A package?

Hotel Cortez.

That's where you're
staying, right?

Let's evacuate the building!

Get the bomb squad down here!

(indistinct radio transmission)

MAN:
Okay.

It's not a bomb.

I mean, we can take it outside
and detonate it

if you want to be safe,

but you might want
to take a look first.

Thanks, Ted.
Yeah.

Congratulations.

(chuckles)

Let's run this
down to the crime lab.

Packaging, everything.

Let's run this blood, too.

And see if it matches
any of our victims.

WILL:
Claudia, you made it.

Will, this place.

It's marvelous!

It's like some sad whore that
stayed too long at the party.

(laughs)
I know.

I still can't decide
if I should renovate it

or just let it
decay around me.

A lot of these fixtures
are original, you know.

Mmm.

Uh, can I help you
with something?

Just teaching the folks
from Vogue how to Vogue.

I couldn't resist.

The irony.

Skinny jeans are out,

fringe is in
and ponchos are forever.

Make a note of it.

You will spend the night?

Are you kidding me?
I'm spending the week.

I'll write about fashion.

And I'll sleep
with history.

Tell me.

Does he comes
with the building?

He's one of our residents.

Hi, there.
Room 64?

Policeman, right?

Yeah.

Will Drake,
new owner.

Right.

Claudia Bankson,
Vogue Magazine.

Uh, didn't mean
to crash the party.

I'm just looking
for my daughter.

She was supposed
to be dropped off here.

Daddy!

Dad, guess what?

Officer Pettibone
let me run the siren!

Oh, Officer Pettibone
knows better.

She hit a triple at recess.

Oh, that's-that's my girl.

All right, thanks, Carl.
Sure.

Let's go.

Wow! You live here?

It doesn't always
look like this.

Is it a party?

It is, and you
and your father are invited.

Oh, thanks, but we have
our whole day planned.

Dad!

Honey, this is
a grownup party.

No, it's-it....

She can sit with my son.
Lachlan!

Lachlan, this is Scarlett.
I'll take your tickets.

Come on, man!
Oh...

I need to be
on this list.

Sorry, is there
a problem here?

Yeah, I'm not on the list!

I'm not sure who you are.

I goddamn live here!

It's a private affair, dear.

The event's full.

Maybe next time.

Come on, man.

(crying):
This is my house.

This is my house!
Get off of me!

(whispering):
This is my first fashion show.

My millionth.

Maybe later I'll show you
something really cool.

¶ ¶

(murmuring
and indistinct whispers)

¶ Mama says ¶

¶ Truth is all that ¶

¶ Matters ¶

¶ Lying and deceiving
is a sin... ¶

There's that cop
that moved into 64.

The police don't worry me.

¶ A world that's
torn and tattered... ¶

Mmm, he's very handsome.

You do have a type.

¶ Don't mean a thing... ¶

I'm afraid
we're not much company,

compared to what
you're used to.

Oh, please.

We're so bored
with each other.

We need some excitement.

And we just might get it.

Will booked Tristan Duffy
for the runway.

And with him you can always

expect something
quite unorthodox.

What?

(sniffs)

Whatever.

Let's just do this.

¶ Living for the moment ¶

¶ Lips and lashes ¶

¶ Will I ever
find my way again? ¶

¶ Don't stop ¶

¶ Don't stop the dance ¶

¶ Don't, more music ¶

¶ Don't stop the dance ¶

¶ Don't stop ¶

¶ Don't stop the dance... ¶

(crowd gasps)

¶ Footsteps in the dark
come together... ¶

(applause)

¶ Don't stop ¶

¶ Don't stop the dance... ¶

What was that about?

He's full of rage.

I can still smell it.

(sniffs)

Like copper.

You need to get
your shit together.

The show is not over.

It is for me.

I'm done with modeling.

You can't tell anyone
about this.

It has to be our secret.

I mean it.

Come on, don't be a wuss.

Nothing wakes them up.

Watch.

(kids laughing and playing)

¶ ¶

What do you think
you're doing?

I know there's coke in here.

I can smell it.

(laughs)

Stop

before you make me stop you.

Call the cops, man.

I don't give a shit.

I'm coming out in a
Lars Von Trier movie next year.

(bellowing)

I've made a rule

to stay away from junkies,

but I'm gonna make

an exception with you.

(choking)

Let him go.

(gasping)

Hmm.

(elevator bell dings)

(coughs)

(groans)

(pounding on door)

(tinny music playing)

(rustling)

FRANKLIN ROOSEVELT:
Let me assert my firm belief

that the only thing

we have to fear

is fear itself.

(gagging)

Shit!

(smooth jazz playing)

(music stops)

Take any piece you like.

None of it has
any meaning for me.

You look like you need a drink.

I'm good.

Oh.

Bolivian marching powder.

Too tame for my taste.

I've found a far better way
to stimulate.

What?

I've tried it all, man.

There is nothing better.
(sniffs)

You know.

In your black heart of hearts,
you know.

You're just like me.

I don't think so, dude.

Well, I had it all once.

Fortune, fame.

But nothing satisfied.

"To thine own self be true."

Polonius.

(drawer opens)

I'll show you what
you've been dreaming of.

(whistling)

MISS EVERS:
Yes, sir?

Stop your sniveling.

I found this one
in the bar, sir.

Prostituting herself.

Ah.
There's nothing
she won't do for a dollar.

Sorry, man,
bondage really bores me.

Me, too.

Pull the trigger

and take her last breath.

(whimpering)

It's exhilarating.

You're crazy.

Get off me, man.

(grunting)

Well...

No!

You got to go out and grab life.

Oh! Jesus!

Laundress?
Yes, sir?

Replace the linens.

Right away, sir.

I'll get the ammonia.

What a glorious stain!

(elevator bell dings)

(kids playing, laughing)

(footsteps approaching)

(door closes heavily)

¶ ¶

¶ ¶

What took you so long?

You know who I am?

Scarlett.

Do you remember them?

That's Mom.

Dad.

And that's me
and that's you.

But you're different now.

I grew up.

Why haven't you?

Mom and Dad are gonna be
so happy when they see you.

They think you're dead.

Let's go home now.

I am home.

I like it here.

You can come

to visit whenever you want.

Can I take a picture?

Okay, here we go.

(panting)

Oh.

(chuckles)

(screaming)

(laughs)

(elevator bell dings)

Kids are the best.

(indistinct radio transmissions)

(sires wailing)

ALEX:
If you could just ask Wendy

if she can think of anything,

anything she may have said
or if she saw her with someone.

JOHN: Why can't I patch in
to the cameras downtown

from my laptop here at home?

But she's been gone
for five hours!

It's a long time when a psycho
has your private number!

Daddy?

Oh, my God.

Where have you been?

Are you okay?

Are you hurt?

Did somebody take you?

I went on the bus.

To your hotel.

Alone?

Yes.

Jesus Christ, Scarlett.

Jesus Christ,
you can't do that to us!

I'm sorry, Mommy.

How did this happen?

Mom, I pretended
to go to the bathroom

and then climbed
out the window.

I know the police guy
couldn't go in there.

I wanted to see
if it was really him.

I wanted to surprise you.

What are you
talking about?

You wanted to see who, Scar?

Holden.

He's at your hotel.

H-Holden is dead, Scarlett.

No.

I saw him.

I was just talking with him.

No, you weren't!

He's dead, and he's never
coming back, all right?

So stop saying that!

I'm not a liar.

I took a picture.

I saw him, and
he was real,

and you lied to me.
No.

You said he was dead,
but I saw him.

(door slams)

Jesus Christ, I can't
believe you made me

go through this again.

You think Holden
was my fault?

I'm sorry, I'm very tired.

I'm going to bed.

TRISTAN:
Jesus Christ.

I look amazing.

I would do me.

No zits, no blackheads.

Mmm.

All that crystal
was wrecking my skin,

making me look like
something on that Web site,

"Faces of Meth."

Now I look, what, like,
(smacks lips) 24.

Goddamn.
(Countess laughs)

The beauty of the virus
is you never age.

You now have a supercharged
immune system.

Can a bullet
take me out?

A silver bullet or a stake?

Bitch, please,
of course it can.

You're only immortal
if you're smart.

(both chuckle)

TRISTAN:
No fangs?

We don't bite.

We cut.

Harder, harder.

Harder.

(Countess moans sensually)

COUNTESS: Never
drink from the dead

Avoid the diseased, the
feeble, the polluted.

Bad blood is like a...

a bad flu or worse.

Coffins?

I prefer blackout curtains
and a Duxiana bed.

The sun won't kill you,

but it should be avoided.

It will sap
your vitality.

Huh.

Bellissimo.

What?

Nothing, you just remind
me so much of someone.

You know what I
can't wait for?

To hunt Kendall Jenner.

Bitch blew me off
once at Coachella.

Can I kill her?

The only thing
that can undo you now

is your own recklessness.

Just don't get caught.

And don't fall in love.

That's the part
you save for me.

Forever.

TRISTAN:
How old are you?

COUNTESS:
I was born in 1904.

(Tristan laughs)

TRISTAN:
Who turned you?

COUNTESS: One who is even
more beautiful than you.

But he's long gone now.

So you'll have to do.

(chuckles)

(chuckles)
Shit.

So you lived through, like,
the wars and the depression

and... Clinton
and everything.

What was your
favorite time?

Every decade has its
decadence period.

That's when I'm most alive.

I loved the late
1970s the most.

¶ I want your love ¶

¶ I want... ¶

¶ Your love ¶

¶ I want your love ¶

¶ I want ¶

¶ Your love ¶

COUNTESS:
I was the disco queen.

¶ I want your love ¶

¶ I want ¶

¶ Your love ¶

I still am.

The darkness was the light.

I could walk amongst them

with no fear, no judgment.

We were all vampires then.

Oh, my God.

¶ I want your love ¶

¶ I need your love ¶

¶ Just like the birds
the sky above. ¶

I mourn it still.

I think about everything
that could have been,

had they all
lived, my friends.

Andy, Keith.

Robert.

All that... loss.

Were those guys
you killed?

(footsteps approach)

He won't last a week.

You want to say
that to my face?

I just did.

Tristan, would you give
us a minute?

Yeah, sure.

(Donovan laughs)

I can't believe you turned him.

He's a stupid trashy model.

And you were a pathetic addict
dying on a filthy floor.

I didn't want
to hurt you.

I still don't.

There's no reason
this has to end badly.

End?

Are you throwing me out?

I love you.

I love you.

And I love you.

But you will learn--

it isn't our precious
virus that makes you.

It isn't who you kill

or who you screw.

It's the heartbreaks.

The bigger, the better.

I know better than any of us.

I'll let you pack
your things.

(glass shatters)
You said,

when you brought me back
from the brink of death,

that it was the closest
thing you ever had

to a spiritual experience.
You tell me...

you tell me you felt that
when you made him.

Honestly...

it was...

one of the most...

erotic...

moments...

of my life.

¶ ¶

Hey there,
handsome.

Rough day?

Oh, cowboy, we don't
allow guests back here.

Don't think of me as a guest,
think of me as the angry father

whose daughter you let
roam these halls today.

There's not a thing
that goes on in this place

that you don't know about,
which makes you an accessory.

To what?

Murder, maybe
kidnapping.

I'm done playing.

Aren't you gonna
frisk me first?

Whew, it's been a long time

since a man spun me
around like that.

If I was a few years younger,
I'd even enjoy the cuffs.

Oh, you're not
gonna enjoy this,

believe me, until you
start telling me

everything that's
going on in this place.

You've seen things.

You know I have.

Look, before you have
to explain to somebody

what you think you're
charging me with,

why don't you take
these bracelets off of me?

I'll tell you
what you want to know.

(sighs)

There's just one
thing you got to do.

What?

Ask nice.

And buy a lady
a drink.

Is that your thing?

You need to be talked
into drinking?

Cut the crap, ask me
what you really want to know.

I want to know what's
going on in this place.

Well, if you want to know
what this place is about,

you have to know
about the man who built it--

James Patrick March.

He put atom of evil in his
being into building this hotel.

March was a self-made
man-- oil, coal.

But he was new money,

shunned by the elites
of East Coast society.

So he came west, to a land
where pedigree meant little

if you had a lot of dough.

Here he would build a monument
to excess and opulence,

where he could satisfy
his own peculiar appetites.

Uh, Mr. March?

Mr. March?!

Uh, th-there's a problem.

I'll be right down!

IRIS: He was a design freak--
art deco, self-taught.

He tried to get Julia Morgan

to come out and build
a place for him,

but she demanded that he pay
his workers fair wages,

so he told her to stuff it.

There's a part of these plans
that make no sense.

I mean, entire hallways
with no rooms off of them.

It looks like you
want us to build,

uh, some sort of
secret passage system.

Well, of course
these make no sense.

These aren't
the right ones.

You're working
off an old draft.

Come up to my
office with me.

I'll get you the new set.
(sighs in relief)

Okay, good.
(chuckles)

MARCH:
I envy you.

My curse was making
my fortune too early.

My point being that the
appetites of the filthy rich

are specific.

Altered from that
of the common man.

Do you mind?

I feed some of that hunger
with this building.

(clicks)

My art.

But sometimes,
if I really want

that good, full feeling...

IRIS:
He wasn't just building
the finest hotel

Los Angeles had ever seen.

(groans)

It was a perfectly designed
torture chamber.

An engineered alibi.

Secret chutes and rooms

to hide and dispose
of the bodies.

Hallways with no exits.

(screaming)

Walls were lined with asbestos

so they could mute the screams.

People walked in,

just vanished.

"No body, no crime,"
he would say.

(whistling)
No, no.

(crying):
I don't like small spaces.

Please.

Help!

(sighs)

Somebody help!

Help!

Help! Help!

No.

Please, no.

IRIS:
He had a wife.

No.

They say he forced her
to watch the torture.

I like it.

Help. No, please.

No, help!

IRIS:
No one knows how many died.

Rumor has it
he averaged three a week.

A lot more if he went
on a bender.

Help!

(screaming)

(groaning)

(panting)

(groans)

Miss Evers!

Yes, Mr. March?

Do you require fresh linens?

Yes.

But more importantly,

remind me to switch out

this God-awful Secessionist
light fixture.

Makes this place

look like a damn zoo.

(groans)

Excuse my language.

(chuckles)

IRIS:
His loyal minion.

Miss Evers, the laundress.

She said she could get a stain
out of anything for Mr. March

using a secret ingredient--

love.

(groans)

(praying softly)

My father was a true believer.

Ate the little cracker
and drank the wine every Sunday.

(inhales sharply)

And he was the meanest
son of a bitch you've ever seen.

Kill a cat for purring too loud.

(clicking tongue)

You want me to tell you
the worst thing in this world?

Religion.

That and regulations.

God is in my heart so I
know there is always hope.

You think there
is hope now?

You think God is
going to protect you

from the head
of this hammer?

Or the six floors
you're about to fall?

As long as there is a God,

men like you can kill thousands,

millions,

but you will never find peace.

(laughs)

Well then,

I guess I'm just going
to have to kill God.

That is my message
to the world.

(groans)

Fly!

I'll fetch you a clean shirt.

And I want every Bible

from every bed stand
in this entire hotel!

(insects buzzing)

DETECTIVE:
What in the Hell is this mess?

No I.D.'s.

(sighs)

DETECTIVE:
Not right

for someone

to pull this shit
on a Sunday.

IRIS:
He was sloppy with his wet work
out in the world.

They say somebody
turned him in.

No one knows who,

but I'm betting on the wife.

With him gone,
she got everything.

All those millions.

(knocking)

I'm sorry to disturb you, sir.

I have some very bad news.

The police are here.

(sighs heavily)

Oh, Miss Evers.

You have always been
the only one I can count on.

You are a pillar.

And so I give you the honors.

What order shall we die in?

Oh, Mr. March.

(sighs)

Oh, I really don't know.

I mean, part of me wishes
you would go first

so I could launder the sheets.

There's no time for that,
is there?

(knocking)

No.

It seems not.

I will go first.

(knocking continues)

Gun, please.

(gasps)

Would you do me the honor

of making me your last one?

Your last meal?

(knocking continues)

Miss Evers.

(gun clicks)

(chuckles)

(knocking continues)

(choking)

You're in the wrong profession.

You should be writing
for the movies.

Ain't a movie.

This place is the real deal.

If you want to know
what's really going on here,

you're gonna have
to expand your thinking a bit.

Well, I've worked
every kind of crime--

robbery, homicide, assault.

Not one of them
were committed

by a ghoul or a ghost.

People do enough damage

without help from the afterlife.

Put it on her tab.

That was his office.

The room you're staying in,

64.

If this building has a heart,

it's black as the ace of spades,

(chuckles)
and you're sleeping in it.

HAHN: Got the lab results
on that bloody award.

It's what you thought--
DNA matches our first vic.

Martin Gamboa,
our blogger.

Wrote for that
site Gold Derby.

Now we've got
a murder weapon.

Yeah, and maybe a motive.

What's this?

You ever hear
of James Patrick March?

Oilman.

No.

He made a killing
during the Great Depression.

Built a hotel here.

Might have been a serial killer.

Before he topped himself,

the police were trying
to connect him

to a bunch of unsolved murders.

They couldn't do it,

but I think somebody else did.

What are you talking about?

It's a pattern, Andy.

A pattern?
Yeah.

Dead thief, cut off his hands.

Thou Shalt Not Steal.

Illegals, looking for work

on a Sunday.

Remember the Sabbath
to keep it holy.

Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery.

Thou Shalt Not Worship
False Idols.

And the Rylance Twins.

Most people thought

their parents' boating
accident was an accident.

But maybe our killer
knew better.

Maybe-maybe the rumors
were true--

they offed Mommy and Daddy.

Honor Thy Mother And Father.

The Ten Commandments?

You're saying
someone's picked up

where this-this
March guy left off?

Maybe.

I don't know, John.

Holy shit.

The hotel he built--

that's where
you're living now.

Yes.

¶ From the cradle bars ¶

¶ Comes a beckoning voice ¶

¶ It sends you spinning ¶

¶ You have no choice ¶

(chuckles)

¶ You hear laughter ¶

¶ Cracking through the walls ¶

¶ It sends you spinning ¶

¶ You have no choice ¶

¶ You hear laughter ¶

¶ Cracking through the walls ¶

¶ It sends you spinning ¶

¶ You have no choice ¶

¶ Following the footsteps ¶

¶ Of a rag doll dance ¶

¶ We are entranced ¶

¶ Spellbound ¶

¶ Following the footsteps ¶

¶ Of a rag doll dance ¶

¶ We are entranced ¶

¶ Spellbound, spellbound ¶

¶ Spellbound, oh ¶

¶ Spellbound, spellbound ¶

¶ Spellbound ¶

¶ Spellbound ¶

You chose well.

Uh...
(laughter)

Who's she?

He looked extra juicy.

And clean.

(chuckles)
Look, dude,

you're hot, but vag action

is a total deal breaker for me.

I've got rules.

¶ When you think your toys
have gone berserk ¶

¶ It's an illusion ¶

¶ You cannot shirk ¶

¶ You hear laughter cracking
through the wall ¶

¶ It sends you spinning ¶

¶ You have no choice ¶

Just 'cause I'm sucking
on a dude doesn't mean I'm gay.

Did you want some?

I'd rather watch.

¶ Spellbound, spellbound ¶

¶ Spellbound ¶

¶ Spellbound ¶

¶ Whoa, whoa, whoa ¶

¶ Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa ¶

¶ Whoa, whoa, whoa ¶

¶ Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa ¶

I need more.

¶ The rag doll dance ¶

¶ We are entranced ¶

¶ Following the footsteps ¶

¶ Of a rag doll dance,
we are entranced ¶

¶ Entranced, entranced,
dance, dance, dance. ¶