we're all mad here....

Two hints lust, then I mix some charm with a dash of wits. 
Add some good looks and then, close the door and dim the lights. 
(This will finally be the night)
where the dictionary chemical cookbook will finally hook you into me.

Would you please take off your lab coat, kiss me as we roll through every chemical.
Would you please put on your dance shoes? ‘Cause I’m sick of dancin’ alone.

Dance Halls Turn To Ghost Towns by The Audition