The Turtleneck Delirium (DUDE mashup)

[intro] Rrrrr... Dim lights, smoke curling up real slow. Rrrroll it up. (rrrreally) Spirits in my hand, only one left... ohhhh no. She leans in close, red lips and a match. She says, baby, come closer. Curtains low. Lamps gold. Shamisen cuts the silence. Cello goes feral and bold. She says I got the fire. I got the velvet voodoo. Asks if she can have my last. But there is one small detail no, I will not show you. (nope) (neverr!) [verse 1] She got dramatic shoulders. She got that moonlit stare. But wrapped around her whole neck is a knitted public affair. Not chains, not scars, not secrets, not some ancient royal wreck, just one terrifying monument: a lordly turtleneck. Her fingers touching mine with one hand, but the other steals more than I can stand. Please stop the ceremony, stop the sacred neck protect. You brought the candles, brought the perfume, still you worship that turtleneck. [pre] This is not romance. This is textile power. This is one long theft in a glamorous hour. No kiss, no grace, no skin, no wreck, just me and my rage and that turtleneck. [hook / chorus] Bravolux delirra, Frantazorra flex! (flex!) She took my last cigarette, lit it with a single match. Kiss the chaos through the cashmere, she refuses to undress. Rrrravax, Velouratrix vex! (vex!) Now I’m breathing hot or is it seething? Guess I’ll be mad for a while. Whole room going operatic for the mythic turtleneck. [verse 2] Now she’s blowing smoke rings at me, grabs my drink like it was free. Says, “You don’t need it anyway,” then laughs and drifts away. She says romance is sacred. She says passion must be pure. Yet the collar keeps ascending like smug couture manure. She moves like some seduction wizard, then ruins the whole effect by guarding every inch of daylight with that woolen intellect. (rrrreally?) [pre / break] She takes a drag, slow and deep and wrong. Those eyes... searching... for an ashtray. Damn. It’s only half gone. This is not a garment. This is a regime. This is a fabric monarchy, a knitted fever dream. Please stop the ceremony, stop the sacred neck protect. Still you worship that turtleneck while she steals my last respect. [bridge] No more smokes. No more pleasure. No more time and no more treasure. Rrrrip through the silence. Spin through the smoke. She built a whole persona round one rolled-up joke. She took my last cigarette, my drink, and left. No thank you. No respect. Just theft. No crown, no cape, no relic, no speck, just one poor fool clinging to destiny through a boiling turtleneck. Bitch. [final hook / chorus] Bravolux delirra, Frantazorra flex! (flex!) She took my last cigarette, lit it with a single match. The whole band is in hysterics at the kingly turtleneck. Rrrravax, Velouratrix vex! (vex!) Now I’m breathing hot or is it seething? Guess I’ll be mad for a while. She took my last cigarette. Rrrrest in knitwearrr. Didn’t even say thanks. Long live the turtleneck. At least a draw she could have offered, but no. If seduction had a warning label, it would say: turtleneck. [outro] She took my last cigarette... BITCH. (hmmmmm) (rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr)