Inside these wooden chests, we keep our wooden (hearts) teeth
You've inherited your mother's bad taste in men and then The way we pour stiff drinks
The way we fall for our dreams
Oh, the things we put in our heads
We've built this house from ice, and now it's summertime
Who makes you suffer?
Is it you? It's you It's true
The way we pour stiff drinks
The way we fall for our dreams
Oh, the things we put in our heads
We'll make history
We'll make history!