| As I write this I must pretend someone’s holding my hand
|
| Probably someone dead
|
| (Would be the only one to hold me now, ice cold)
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| I was waiting, forbidden
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| No one knew I was waiting, not even you
|
| I was not speaking
|
| You were travelling
|
| And you came to me as if someone just died
|
| Consolidation, but violently felt
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| Like kissing through the glass window
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| Passion separated by space legal, like money
|
| (Is a space of freedom)
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| Free!
|
| Free!
|
| Consolidation when it’s an excuse
|
| As if someone had just died
|
| Condolences, when silences rise in public places
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| And any gathering becomes a cathedral
|
| For a short moment in time
|
| I let you wipe out my facial features
|
| But flesh is the loneliest creature
|
| And it’s suddenly silenced
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| By the most unlawful act of infinity
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| Infidelity
|
| When I on a whim followed her suddenly into that room
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| And kissed like blood intinction to avoid thinking of death
|
| Death!
|
| Death!
|
| Exchanging one drive for another drive
|
| There comes a certain point in our lives when we more or less
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| Desperately want to be bad
|
| And we gladly exchange the good things
|
| Just to for a short moment feel alive
|
| I can tell you that I’ve never felt so alive
|
| As when you embraced me
|
| You were travelling
|
| And you came to me as if someone had just died
|
| Consolidation of violence
|
| As if already
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| It did not, and later we regret it
|
| Because we have no language to express that it was both
|
| Ravishing, ravishing
|
| Destructive, and most of all, most of all:
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| Absolutely necessary
|
| These things! |
| To feel alive
|
| Free!
|
| To die, to die!
|
| Free!
|
| In whoever’s innocent arms |