The curtained scene ama**ed and sold out with a train of ghosts
And on it's knee in an aisle sold off all the clouds
And the harpsichord man takes a bow in a suit of dazzling silver
The spotlight hits him like a dead grey moan
He takes the microphone
Ladies and gentlemen
This is the d**h composition
What is
k**ing
Suppression
It sounds dead.
To court
Our love
He smashes the keys with the bone and blood
The sun scratches at his window
He's tied to the songs
A bag of blood
He's dying in
A crescendo
The crowd whispers and he begins to speak
Ladies, Gentlemen, most have escaped it and
And I've done nothing
I stained gla** from the pistol ball and I
And I used it for lyrics
I saw the picture try eating gravel and I
And deharmonized it
I hurt that some may model it first and then I
And I sing it to the thin breeze
I am the dumb sins of tape
We're cornered backalley skull fractured lies
The sins are in sound
Razorburn razorburn
And dying the portraits have seen
Your commitment sell smiles
And dying (as you die as you die kissed by the razorblade) there's a man
There's a man in the hall just on the left
The scene is pulsing
The smell of candles burning lips
Police are coming
Police are coming
With the guns in their hand
Always they're coming
With the guns in their hands
What is
Choking
Depression
It sounds dead
Medic
Come quick
The audience gasps as the keys close
Dear god
Horror
A dead note ringing on the harpsichord