1. |
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Imagine yr ugly face
Imagine the death under yr eyes
and how you'd turn their lips blue,
and yr fangs, oh how you'd wish
oh how you'd wish they were sharp
Imagine yr ugly face like only you can
and now imagine that I don't hate you
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2. |
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I slept with one eye trained upon the whispers
and one ear dancin' with the dead
outside it rained 6000 lovely voices
who sang for me so gently as I wept
oh mend this ragged heart of mine
and sew this sacred breath
so I can breathe eternal
and lay my soul to rest
I slept with one eye trained upon yr empty voices...
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3. |
Stve/Srna
02:21
|
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They speak in three breaths
three breaths with their stiletto tongues
one untranslatable, one unforgettable
and one where you lalalalalalalalala
Do not forgive them!
Let them forgive themselves!
Do not eat that breath whispered love near drown in self indulgence
oh,
lalalalalalalalala
(rpt.)
So find yrself sweet, child and sleep now
yr tongue no longer composed of razors
yr lips no longer bloody
lalalalalalala!
(Rptx3)
Say a prayer, say a prayer for me.
Evryone give yrself a big hands!
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4. |
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Oh Thank You! Thank you for coming out tonight!
It's been so nice to see you!
It's been nice to see the living,
it's been nice to see the dead,
it's been nice to hear the laughter,
it's been nice to hear the voices in my head...
Oh ho! Thank you! Thank You!
I might say only for the mangled bodies piled in front of me!
I might say only lit for them!
But my fingers and strings
they bleed together on this piled heap,
when my guitar,
it bleeds for you,
you know that nothin' ever ends
nothin' ever ends
nothin' ever ends...
Oh ho! Thank You! And Good Night! Good Night!
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5. |
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Oh sweet Virginia,
we feel no sorrow for you young bride!
So dance now and have a drink on me
So fitting how we met in the brides room this morning
so nice to see you with yr boys
It's always nice to see you with yr boys
And we feel no sorrow for you but only for ourselves
so dance now and have a drink on me!
So good to see you humble bride, for one last time!
So dance now and have a drink on me!
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Blood Stained Cuffs San Diego, California
Sunday mornings drunk on cheap red wine, alleyways and industrial districts, Rilke, boarded up houses, Bach, the lake most nights, being alone, listening to Tom Waits, being with others, finding solace in personal delusions, the Hungarian Melody, and meeting death with a smile. ... more
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