| All this tenderness has come to nothing
|
| All that we require is being rearranged
|
| I’ve no wish to look to the future
|
| For my exspectations will no doubt be changed
|
| Just rolloing along on the rest of the waves
|
| My statements and strategies are quickly dismissed
|
| Poisoned pens in invisible paper
|
| Steel knuckles concealed by velvet fists
|
| What is the chance of us living
|
| Some of our simplest dreams
|
| Are all the structures we build here
|
| Really as frail as they seem
|
| The dying are the lovers of this modern world
|
| The power and the glory survives
|
| With radio active bargaining
|
| And the valueness of our lives
|
| My turn to crumble
|
| My turn to fall
|
| From so very humble
|
| To nothing al all
|
| @Sond: weltschmerz
|
| This is where silence runs it’s course
|
| And sadness wipes it’s eyes upon us
|
| We fall from a structure build on troubled minds
|
| My world becomes iron and grows an cold as Winter
|
| Soldiers in uniforms of nudity march over open hearts
|
| Sweetly and sickly scented by roses
|
| And your world I’d crushing you like those flowers
|
| By scripts written into your skinwith the in of thorns
|
| Ashen faces sink into silence
|
| All lonesome trends brush shoulders
|
| All of last nights degredation
|
| Builds foundations on us both |