Freakbeat Phantom

Resting himself on his crutches, suspicious stories which are fake

Laughter was growing around in a stranger's sound

Holding his stutter in his hands and carving his words to demands

Psychotic byonic he was as he splutters his words

Touched by the freakbeating phantom, I'm holding on

Confusion cuts in the air, if I was granted one wish

I'd whisk off the girl with the white jeans for a singles night's bliss

Revising thoughts of stately homes as the party continues

The bright lights eluminates the, the freakbeat eluminates the night