Lyrics Snippet | Song Title |
I know it's just a tear drop from Mother Earth but in it I can hear a dolphin sing | |
with no-one wearing their real face, it's a whiteout of emotion and I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall | |
ashtrays filled with the fruits of our transgressions, here and there sarcasm overflows | |
when the deal that you made with love is now a one way street | |
and so I came to gaze upon the stars, when they were yet unborn | |
the zealot never saves the sacrificial lamb | |
the light of reason gone, and hope has been successfully undone | |
till in the stillness of one dawn, still in its mystic crown | |
mercury dances in its skyscraper cell | |
of implication, insinuation and ill will | |
I choose to fantasize and I build myself another piece of this memory estate, but I can't find the key to walk inside my own lies | |
mercy, like water in a desert, shine through my memory like jewelry in the sun | |
in the light of recent findings, there's no greater taint than grace | |
for the fates are devious by heart, they envy you your dreams so they'll let you drown | |
the thoughtless but kind; the caring but blind | |
he still picks his trains by chance, chooses opinions to fit his circumstance, to find something he can use | |
it doesn't solve a thing to dress it in a pretty gown; a stone will not need you to guess if you're still going to drown | |
only dreams will hold their sway and defy | |
the dance of flames and shadows in the street make poetry nobody's ever heard | |
with symphonies playing in the world without sound | |
let your dreams flood in like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within | |
this naivete of youth | |
this life is made of time and choices and endless blend of vistas painted bright with memories | |
fragments of a life you shouldn't miss | |
chills come racing down my spine like a storm on my skin | |
on the asphalt underneath, our crushed plans and my lies | |
when darkness is no less than everything you've built become undone | |
sweet as an angel sings, she gives though she has none left but the last one, free, unhesitatingly | |
my worth is the look in your eyes; my prize the smile playing tricks on your lips | |
forever now unsaid, the words that might have warmed December | |
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