Pride and prig the fog on me. (I do) Falsehood of the sight. (do you warm me?)
The cradle’s kiss, black wings draped over you until sleep, At your side, invading your lungs mixed with sand and about to lose control, the dark night freezes the “crow”,
Long eyelashes cast downward in fear, merely a false death in the tragedy we project,
Pride and prig the fog on me. (I do) Falsehood of the sight. (Warm me)
Kisses raining down incessantly, in black rain those breaths froze too, Drying flower petals, wet hair, trembling and forgetting your displeasure, The cradle’s kiss, black wings draped over you until sleep, At your side, invading your lungs mixed with sand and about to lose control, a voice that drains the night
Long eyelashes cast downward in fear, we join hands in the tragedy we project