| I live in an ugly city. |
| Nowhere else I’d rather be
|
| Last one of a dying breed. |
| There’ll be no more after me
|
| Famous and unknown, it’s heinous. |
| So in pain but won’t complain
|
| Hell on Earth is frozen over. |
| Pretty girls all go insane
|
| The martyrdom of Saint Sebastian. |
| Dream-life of a prisoner
|
| Synesthetic. |
| Sinister. |
| No such thing as a good listener
|
| There was a time I was never alone. |
| Now that seems like forever ago
|
| You know how to whistle, don’t you? |
| Just put your lips together
|
| And blow
|
| Oh, it’s much too much
|
| Never enough or it’s much too much
|
| You better be careful, love will fuck you up
|
| That’s right
|
| No revenges, no more flaming hearts, not here
|
| That’s right
|
| This is nowhere, en plus je ne sais pas quoi dire
|
| I watch old movies. |
| Terrible what men become
|
| Hard as iron, unreflected, I never trusted anyone
|
| The lion in the snow is dying. |
| Evil, this life of obsession
|
| Can’t conceive how she must feel, the fatigued wife of a question
|
| Sailing toward a distant harbor where perverts play and misfits barter
|
| Sunglasses and lipstick armor. |
| Days they pass, but it gets harder
|
| Blackened room. |
| Projected image. |
| Ignored by a boring girl
|
| Buying flowers for no reason. |
| Hiding from the warring world
|
| Shadows of my former self. |
| Deadly, my mistake in giving
|
| Everyone’s got their own addictions. |
| Everyone’s got to make a
|
| Living
|
| Knowing hands of the blind sculptor. |
| Slight the underdog’s advantage
|
| Sometimes we just want to leave, wander into the fog and vanish
|
| I am both of your directions. |
| More mistakes. |
| More corrections
|
| Wear your influence for protection. |
| Now we see but a poor reflection |