I'm clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight that actually existed just in your head your fingernails painted black or bloodred I forget
And your fake-leather volumes jabbering on hell manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhail your eyes tried so hard to glitter
A star-snuffing black so you opened your books and you opened your legs and so opened your heart and let in the badness you claimed as your friend with un-angels hovering like flies round the orchard that had covered your soul their empire increasing and your country deserted by yourself
The bells of St. Mary call us to remember that life is with end and the gestures can kill us moreover destroy and there is one jugdement only
Your letters came daily in French or in German but they meant to me nothing I caught the slow cords and dry ice fogging your mind I see all too clearly now why you should be discarded and though I could pray for you I probably shan't having had my cup filled up with your lies and your makeup you were nothing thinking you're something
And nonetheless I still write this gothic lovesong a sign to myself and the memory of my past I still write this gothic lovesong and the memory of my past and a way to shut out your face
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Copy to Clipboard: I'm clicking your fingers for a gothic twilight that actually existed just in your head your fingernails painted black or bloodred I forget
And your fake-leather volumes jabbering on hell manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhail your eyes tried so hard to glitter
A star-snuffing black so you opened your books and you opened your legs and so opened your heart and let in the badness you claimed as your friend with un-angels hovering like flies round the orchard that had covered your soul their empire increasing and your country deserted by yourself
The bells of St. Mary call us to remember that life is with end and the gestures can kill us moreover destroy and there is one jugdement only
Your letters came daily in French or in German but they meant to me nothing I caught the slow cords and dry ice fogging your mind I see all too clearly now why you should be discarded and though I could pray for you I probably shan't having had my cup filled up with your lies and your makeup you were nothing thinking you're something
And nonetheless I still write this gothic lovesong a sign to myself and the memory of my past I still write this gothic lovesong and the memory of my past and a way to shut out your face
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