| Alcohol is in my veins…
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| Tears fall as I think of you.
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| The true memory you left me with
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| is a key to the wine of melancholy.
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| I drown myself in the deepest of sorrows-
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| As you Burned on that stake they burnt
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| my soul as well.
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| Your pure feelings, your flaming hate;
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| it was not enough.
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| Natassja, my beloved satanic witch,
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| The power in your eyes and yourself.
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| Worked for the noble in man.
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| Pass the bottle, pass the knife,
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| Pass me your unholy crafts.
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| I shall never forget you, the best
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| of all there is, I lick your cold lips,
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| I embrace your coffin as I sigh in woe.
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| You never kissed the priest, you never
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| Drank the blood of jesus. |
| Weird, they say —
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| well, turn it upside down like you did,
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| and they kill, kill, and they take you away…
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| Now, centuries later, I do yours and my sign.
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| You live in me, like you moved in with my soul.
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| Your resurrection is the spirit of you —
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| Installed in me. |
| So now, your thougths
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| and your pains are my wine; |
| and Natassja:
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| I’ll get these goddam angels drunk… |