There are white flags atop the towers of my city.
My city is empty and cold.
It's still raining in the brightly lit room,
It's a good thing you're not coming.
Conquer me,
Conquer me.
There are red flags atop the towers of my ageing.
The subtle taste of evenings with attempts to see.
But the thing about distance
Is that fidelity is dead without a body.
Conquer me,
Conquer me.
From the first steps to the last day,
From warmth to a fire burnt to ashes,
Conquer me...
There are black flags atop the towers of my sainthood.
The tree of eternal yearning without fruit or joy.
A desolate look in the dusty windows,
An asphalt road with no way back.
Conquer me,
Conquer me.
And when all the flags atop the towers turn dark blue
You and I will fly away into the disquiet and powerless heavens.
But if the endless journey is over,
What's the use of an honest face?
Conquer me,
Conquer me.
From the first steps to the last day,
From warmth to a fire burnt to ashes,
Conquer me...