She plays the music of pain, and i see her face through the scores |
behind the curtains she lives in the dreamland she wakes happiness she smokes and bitterness exhales she plays the music of pain— and i see her face through the scores her everyday is Sunday and every night the last she rides the dragons and chases your nightmares through the corridors of X-rated memories a dream of thousand cats she dreams and it’s her shadow jumping on your window sill, scaring pink elephants in the head of your girlfriend listen, i can tell you why she turned you down— you’re to catch her there when she falls show me your hands— can they bear the weight of her regrets? show me your heart— can it break for her mistakes? and can you read her tears— dry and heavy and black, they’re burning the paper through, they’re singing and screaming … can you? and i sometimes wish... i wish i could make England win and Balaševic sing different songs i wish i could sometimes watch happy-ending movies in her eyes, drink fire for her and walk the roofs... i wish i didn’t have to turn off the lights ‘cause when i wake up i’m not sure will i see her there again |