| Blue smoke swirling in the wind
|
| A resigned beacon pale and thinned
|
| Thoughts to tantalize the mind
|
| Guilty tears on a sinner’s cheek
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| A pulse unworthy becoming weak
|
| For what I see I might as well be blind
|
| We are a legend of little repute
|
| Our braggart’s tongues remaining mute
|
| What are we still missing from this mixture?
|
| We should have shown the world our name
|
| But instead we chose no path of fame
|
| Where we stand we hardly are a fixture
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| Ones made to convince, ones made to confuse
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| Ones made to allure, ones made to imbuse
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| Ones far too shallow, ones far too deep
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| How many times have I tried to go
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| To find out all that there is to know
|
| Without reflecting upon your face as well?
|
| Still I strove to make us obsolete
|
| But since this painting wasn’t yet complete
|
| I found it hard to stubbornly rebel
|
| I don’t want the mist to consume me
|
| The spirit yearns to wander freely
|
| We aren’t quite the universal standard
|
| Will you hold me up or hold me down?
|
| Shall we swim or shall we drown
|
| Wailing for this story left unheard?
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| Ones made to convince, ones made to confuse
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| Ones made to allure, ones made to imbuse
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| Ones far too shallow, ones far too deep
|
| My absinthe eyes, your opium words
|
| Fade away into nothing
|
| Turned a corner
|
| Turned a leaf
|
| Turned into hatred
|
| Turned to grief
|
| Turned a blind eye
|
| Turned my head
|
| Turned my back |