[00:27.38] |
i'm clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight |
[00:34.41] |
that actually existed just in your head |
[00:41.49] |
your fingernails painted black or bloodred |
[00:47.76] |
i forget |
[00:50.74] |
and your fake-leather volumes |
[00:53.17] |
jabbering on hell |
[00:57.10] |
manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhale |
[01:03.58] |
your eyes tried so hard to glitter |
[01:10.45] |
a star-snuffing black |
[01:12.79] |
so you opened your books |
[01:16.08] |
and you opened your legs |
[01:18.64] |
and so opened your heart |
[01:23.13] |
and let in the badness |
[01:26.91] |
you claimed as your friend |
[01:38.38] |
with un-angels hovering |
[01:41.23] |
like flies around the orchard |
[01:44.75] |
that had covered your soul |
[01:48.11] |
their empire increasing |
[01:51.79] |
and your country deserted by your self |
[01:59.98] |
the bells of st mary call us to remember |
[02:06.59] |
that life is with end |
[02:10.97] |
and the gestures can kill us |
[02:14.31] |
moreover destroy |
[02:18.39] |
and there is one judgment only |
[02:25.35] |
your letters came daily |
[02:28.26] |
in french or in german |
[02:31.37] |
but they meant to me nothing |
[02:34.38] |
i caught the slow chords |
[02:37.77] |
and dry ice fogging your mind |
[02:46.47] |
i see all too clearly now |
[02:53.13] |
why you could be discarded |
[02:57.89] |
and though i could pray for you |
[03:01.76] |
i probably shan't |
[03:05.44] |
having had my cup filled up |
[03:10.11] |
with your lies and your make-up |
[03:16.98] |
you were nothing |
[03:19.27] |
thinking you're something |
[03:28.69] |
and nonetheless i still write |
[03:32.00] |
this gothic lovesong |
[03:35.24] |
a sign to myself and the memory of my past |
[03:41.56] |
i still write this gothic lovesong |
[03:47.43] |
a sign to myselfa |
[03:49.49] |
and the memory of my past |
[03:54.26] |
and a way to shut out your face |