No One Leaves This Discotheque Alive

I am the hound of London town Where the sheets are stained with gold And every morning, the sun comes up I'm on ceiling patrol Hanging on by a burning thread Never felt so right I just want to lose my head No one leaves this discotheque alive La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la Love is born in a perfect storm At least that's what I'm told A man weeps, a woman yawns In the strip-light afterglow Hanging on by a burning thread Never felt so right I just want to lose my head No one leaves this discotheque alive La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la Bartender fix me a drink I never liked before Point me at the ATM I wish to overdraw Hanging on by a burning thread Never felt so right I just want to lose my head No one leaves this discotheque alive La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la (no one leaves) La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la (this discotheque alive) La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la (no one leaves) La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la (this discotheque) La-la-la-la-la (alive)