Useless, apathetic, trading knowledge with a mirror When a one-way conversation changed from conflict turns to fear You can shake your fists in anger even though nobody's home Entertain hallucinations in a hotel room alone Let go, whoa (One, two, three, four) Let go, whoa Leaving bodies on the floor, whoa A blood junkie's always looking for a score Walking through the valley down Ventura Boulevard When I saw some girl beside me selling churros from her car Then some guy ran up behind her, stealing everything she had Safe to say I found my fix inside this poorly sharp dressed man Let go, whoa (One, two, three, four) Let go, whoa Leaving bodies on the floor, whoa A blood junkie's always looking for a score Let go, whoa (One, two, three, four) Let go, whoa Leaving bodies on the floor, whoa A blood junkie's always looking for a score A blood junkie's always looking for a score Just a junkie left here waiting, wanting more