Of a great a city
Breaks in my mind
As wishful thinking
People caught in a web
A death march of today
Playing graveyard songs
Play
Play
Play me a love song
The idea of a heart
In a nice place
Impossible thoughts for raising dead
For forgoten places
Flooded
It seems the dream is gone
The band plays along
Rachmaninoff for nothing
Dust falls on high tower
You hear the bells
Attached to breasts nipples
Holy holy
A possibility
