And on the street it walks
The wrong way
It withers all flowers
And death sings, sings, a song
With his white guitar
And death sings, sings...
Would you mind if I die?
And death sings, sings...
Sings...
Would you mind if I die?
I write about sensations, moods and apparitions,
while people give parties to cover the silence
There is no sense in feeling remorse for a thing you could not control
And death sings, sings...
Would you mind if I die?
And death sings, sings...
Sings...
Would you mind if I die?
What did you want when you continued to ask?
What did you want when you continued to ask?
My energies must be direct to an act
I continually research a sure channel to address my emotive contradictions
I yearn they have a positive origin
Intolerant towards imperfection
I practice a personal and secret auto-therapy,
I practice a personal and secret auto-therapy
Against the shame of publicly showing our own signs
Memento Audere Semper
Memento Audere Semper
Memento Audere Semper
Memento Audere Semper
Memento Audere Semper
Memento Audere Semper
Memento Audere Semper
Memento Audere Semper
And on the street it walks
The wrong way
On the wrong way, it withers all flowers
And death sings, sings, a song
With his white guitar
And death sings, sings...
Sings...
It sings, sings... it sings...
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