| It’s staring at you with an expression far from natural
|
| But could you expect something less than a sick sense of irony?
|
| Breathe the years where only art could be abstract
|
| Shred the fears to slit the ocean filled with sores
|
| It was that time of June when suddenly screamed the velvet waters
|
| Words of grace were swimming in a lake of hate
|
| Play not vain and hold on to a life deranged
|
| Oh sweet sickness in me explain my tragedy, prevent my madness
|
| I’ll share with you my dead sentimental bodies
|
| An eerie aspect of us… drowning
|
| I could wish for a brighter sun
|
| But that would be the curse to my reprisal
|
| It always feels like a deathly song
|
| Without stars, without chances to regret
|
| It always sings like a silent crow
|
| The blackest wings to embrace our trivial lives
|
| Breathe the years where only art could be abstract
|
| Shred the fears to slit the ocean filled with sores
|
| Oh sweet sickness in me explain my tragedy, prevent my madness
|
| I’ll share with you my dead sentimental bodies
|
| An eerie aspect of us… drowning
|
| I could wish for a brighter sun
|
| But that would be the curse to my reprisal |