| Everything is rags and there’s nobody to blame but me And it would be so easy if there was noone to hurt but me But now everything that i do coming out of me Will just tear through you
|
| In and out of you
|
| Up and down your life like a curse
|
| (so that when the sun bursts,
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| When the rain falls, when the wind blows,
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| I rip through your heart. |
| on a horse called nightmare,
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| Bucking and spitting, i ride to your house
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| In the home of bluebeard, blood flows as red as any flag
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| Death cries «victory is mine!»
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| Laughter echoes,
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| And death just claps his hands
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| And then time stands still, castles fall,
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| Lightning strikes the tower, announcing chaos
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| Sunday’s child scales the walls
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| Of a paradise then dives into darkness.
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| A fool playing god
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| With one foot in eden, one foot in hell
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| And blindness in his brain
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| And fever in his eyes
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| Lies on his tongue
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| Still saying «this is just a dream»
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| Cast by the only son of rags
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| Who would wrap you up in all the finest tatters
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| But he wanted nothing more, my loved one,
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| Than to wrap you up in joy
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| But it never be with me -- you and i are like two worlds
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| Not meant to collide
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| Death to each other
|
| In the unravelling of time
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| So how do you… how do you like it?
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| What kind of dream would you call it —
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| To have one foot in eden,
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| One foot in hell
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| To be always numb,
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| Plagued by demons
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| Summoned by angels at the same time,
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| Endlessly)
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| But i will burn me Right out of this place.
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| I will lay you down to sleep
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| So when you wake
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| I’ll be gone
|
| And you
|
| Will remember
|
| Nothing
|
| You
|
| Will remember… |