Lead me into the nights unholy dress. Unless you have a better plan to clean up this mess. I will not be this burning pier, I want to bathe in frozen water stuck forever diving in thoughts.
Never have I had a meaningless night, I've written it down and no one pays mind. Burning all the lovers in sight, no one has any idea of how the night grows, yet they all understand how long the days could tend to be. Let it unfold you and wear you as a mask. Speak for the moon and cover her past. She'll sing a song for you, it goes
"cut your finger tips off you won't play. Cut your finger tips off you won't play, love.
My ink runs through this violin.
Feeding every note, understand
I have grown through this instrument, breeding children of song with content. Making lovers fall in love with me. Singing lovely means they'll never leave. I've seen these notes slip into their ears and dance inside their dreams every night."
Make it pleasant: the falling of the sand. Scatter cells all over the bathroom floor. What a surprise, the strings have snapped. What tunes will you string out for them? Will they love you or should they forget?
Do they understand where the night went?
Do they know the life of the times spent?
Can't you grasp the answers for this?
Should I speak so loud that you hear this?
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