| Arms towering into fear
|
| Feels like I am going in my sleep
|
| The dead are breeding under my pillow
|
| Is there a place for you in me?
|
| Best forgotten
|
| Gates closing when you draw near
|
| At the very heart of melancholia
|
| Those were his last words
|
| Is there still something to die for?
|
| Inside my heart a wasteland
|
| That only you can fill with life
|
| For ther are strangers in our way
|
| Pulling us under, dreaming us under tonight
|
| As certain as the grave
|
| If I lie to you again
|
| Imposed in the darkness
|
| Every word is true
|
| And best forgotten
|
| Words surrender into a seal
|
| My life is a curse I keep to myself
|
| The dead are breaking under my pillow
|
| Memories of when you were there
|
| Best forgotten
|
| Lips drying when you are near
|
| At the very pit of melancholia
|
| Those were her last souls
|
| Is there still something to dream of?
|
| Inside my heart a wasteland still
|
| That only you could make me feel
|
| For there are snakes in our way
|
| Feeling us under, nesting us under tonight
|
| As certain as the grave if I lie to you again
|
| Imposed in the darkness
|
| Every word is true
|
| And best forgotten |