It's late evening
And it dews like a glass
The moon comes to caress
The black skin in the night
But in diligent arms despair
Begins to plant, in the heart,
Black seedlings of pain.
I suffocate in the night's black corset
And the weirdest thing is that you're here.
I suffocate in the night's black corset
And the weirdest thing is that you're here.
Mind is looking for reasons,
Like mushroom-pickers are looking for mushrooms
But soul's eyes are tied up tightly
Rosy and resilient moon shines
So daring and doesn't move from the spot.
I suffocate in the night's black corset
And the weirdest thing is that you're here.
I suffocate in the night's black corset
And the weirdest thing is that you're here.
How thickened,
How stifling,
Is the velvet air.
And how hollowly pulsates the bell in the attic
How theatrical is this despair I would say
How overacted if there wouldn't be that verse
How theatrical if there wouldn't be that verse.