| Through the clouds around your aching body
|
| The usual noises are slowly fading in and so
|
| You tried so hard to disembody
|
| But everything’s still in its place, just like before
|
| And even if you try to blank out the scenes
|
| They will recur again and again
|
| And no one can perceive the scars
|
| But your soul is marked, it can never heal
|
| But when …
|
| Rain falls into your eyes
|
| It dilutes all your tears down
|
| Rain falls like it’s lye
|
| Washing your blood away
|
| When rain falls into your eyes
|
| It can blur all distinction
|
| Rain falls in reply
|
| Your reflection shows a hint of anger
|
| But you still feel the numbness deep inside
|
| With the blade right in your hand you’re pausing
|
| Awaiting the rising excitement to come out
|
| With the first cut your warm blood is dripping
|
| Down to the floor, but you feel so alive now
|
| And the craving for this substitution of pain always prevails
|
| And when …
|
| Rain falls into your eyes
|
| It dilutes all your tears down
|
| Rain falls like it’s lye
|
| Washing your blood away
|
| When rain falls into your eyes
|
| It can blur all distinction
|
| Rain falls in reply
|
| Rain falls into your eyes
|
| It dilutes all your tears down
|
| Rain falls like it’s lye
|
| Washing your blood away
|
| When rain falls into your eyes
|
| It can blur all distinction
|
| Rain falls in reply |