Wedding gowns spun in peripheral vision I was loud, but you were not listening We are the clockwork in a terminal machine
We are clockwork in a terminal machine Maladjusted, set in sedentary on a throne
You are our queen of dusk We do the things we must
Light as a feather, no more than a wave of your hand and we were undone Stiff as a board, whatever preceded this life has dissipated
We are clockwork in a terminal machine Maladjusted, set in sedentary on a throne
You are our queen of dusk We do the things we must
Wake up in past tense, the rapture rattling on my breath Driven away from a soul; like you, to sharpen the cause that you sold it to Wake up in past tense, breathe in the dust that once was romance Driven away from a soul; like you, to sharpen the cause that you sold it to
You are our queen of dusk We do the things we must (queen of the dusk, I ain't down on it things don't have to be so despondent)