| At the hour when they fall
|
| Pale pink tongues
|
| In winter we stick to cold longing
|
| And we scrape the wallpaper over the lofts
|
| And we go down in black elevators
|
| From the umbilical cord or from the chain
|
| From the umbilical cord or from the chain
|
| Night and we will decompose
|
| On an ironing board
|
| And at 12 will snuggle up to me
|
| Blond drug dealer is mine
|
| Cling to me
|
| Like letter to letter in a letter
|
| Like letter to letter in a letter
|
| We can hear the ceilings crumble
|
| And we become part of the blind crowd
|
| It's dark in the city and it's dark in us
|
| Dance in the disco screaming at yourself
|
| Among the people closed under the skin
|
| Pulled out like cherry pits
|
| From their silence smeared walls
|
| Tomorrow you will be just a set of bones
|
| And today dance like a bitch
|
| Don't love anyone, but dance
|
| dance
|
| Dance in the disco screaming at yourself
|
| Among the people closed under the skin
|
| Pulled out like cherry pits
|
| From their silence smeared walls
|
| Tomorrow you will be just a set of bones
|
| And today dance like a bitch
|
| Don't love anyone, but dance
|
| dance
|
| You can burn yourself, get out of the void
|
| To remember that your lips taste like water
|
| Cotton candy and creepy literature
|
| Even if bullets knock on the bones
|
| I don't remember the taste of anything like you
|
| For example, if the taste of bread and salt reminds of bile
|
| Then it's time to burn yourself again
|
| And get away from quotes and homies
|
| Fitted in them by honor
|
| At the hour when
|
| With a kitchen knife on the back they write the word "if"
|
| Start counting the marks of previous knives
|
| start counting
|
| start counting
|
| Dance in the disco screaming at yourself
|
| Among the people closed under the skin
|
| Pulled out like cherry pits
|
| From their silence smeared walls
|
| Tomorrow you will be just a set of bones
|
| And today dance like a bitch
|
| Don't love anyone, but dance
|
| dance
|
| Dance in the disco screaming at yourself
|
| Among the people closed under the skin
|
| Pulled out like cherry pits
|
| From their silence smeared walls
|
| Tomorrow you will be just a set of bones
|
| And today dance like a bitch
|
| Don't love anyone, but dance
|
| dance |