|
|
|
|
"I am obsessed by a picture that weakens me. Now all that remains is an echo in the wind,
carrying my voice and resonating with my last words."
|
|
|
Their little girl said, don't tell me how you feel
You don't understand, she painted the people, she...
...disgusted on her way down all there is left now
Is a picture of them with their faces on it and it's my fault
Black roses
As black as her hair
White sheets
As pale as her face
Her face
She crossed her fingers and apologized to them
Then she flew off into the stream
Went to the light, which faded meanwhile
Into the scratches on her cheeks and her raining soul
Black roses
As black as her hair
White sheets
As pale as her face
Her face
Red blood
As red as her lips
Oh, believe me
I loved her too much
Too much
|
|
Startpagina →
:: A. A. Lucassen :: →
Fate of a dreamer →
Sick ceremony
~
