I don't understand if it's neurosis or they're vices
I look into your eyes like a child at fireworks
I look into them as if there won’t be a second chance
Looking at them and in the darkness I'd feel at home
Your eyes are like the lights of Vegas
Or: Your eyes are like Vegas lights
Nights stand still, with you I don’t look at the clock
With you I feel that I don't have a way to not win
But I don’t rush to play and I'm still walking drunk on the strip