Colliding in the stroboscope   Yes, now you see me; now you don't   Tonight I'm dressed in black   I mourn the death of colour      Hopeless, crying in my wine   through happy hour; trace the lines   that crawl across my face   and 'round my eyes      Watch the ballerinas fly   on powder clouds through six dimensions   seeing just the patterns on the wall      Choose your masks and raise your armour   Eyes down for Cheraderama!      Cold eyes searching for a space   that's warm enough to take them through the night   There's only black and white   Express; we never touch (we only press)      Can taste the desperation in your breath   I swear that I'll protect you if you'd only   look into my eyes