| Don"t even take a breath
|
| The air is cut with cyanide
|
| In honor of the New Year
|
| The press gives us cause to celebrate:
|
| These air raid sirens
|
| Flood barbed wire skylines
|
| By artificial night,
|
| As we sleep to burn the red
|
| From our bloodless lives.
|
| Tonight we"re all time bombs
|
| on fault lines.
|
| Have we lost everything now?
|
| We"re walking
|
| like each other"s ghosts
|
| Around these silent streets
|
| (the sedatives tell you everything
|
| is alright)
|
| Like calendars dying
|
| at New Year"s Eve parties
|
| As we kiss hard on the lips
|
| and swear this year
|
| will be better then the last
|
| Jet Black — the ink that spells your name
|
| Jet Black — The blood that"s in your veins
|
| We say, «How long can we take this chance not to celebrate?»
|
| There"s music playing
|
| But we dance to the beat
|
| Of our own black hearts
|
| And draw diagrams
|
| Of suicide on each other"s wrists
|
| Then trace them with razorblades
|
| Fire to flames
|
| «Strike Match.»
|
| Burn these words from our lips
|
| As «The Daggar"screams
|
| «Love is dead»
|
| and it"s a «newspaper tragedy,»
|
| Have we lost what we love?
|
| Hav
|
| e we said everything?
|
| Does it change anything?
|
| Stare at the clock
|
| Avoid at all costs,
|
| This emptiness.
|
| Ten seconds left
|
| until midnight
|
| nine chances to drown ourselves
|
| in black hair dye
|
| eight faces turned away
|
| from the shock:
|
| seven windows and six of them
|
| were locked
|
| five stories falling
|
| forever and ever
|
| three cheers to the mirror
|
| now there are two of us can we have one last dance?
|
| How long can we take this chance not to celebrate life? |