The Hanged Man

Put your arms around my neck

just like a pathetic lace of death

displays like a tarot deck

I am the card of the hanged man

and here I stand

with a flame on my hand

do you understand?

If there is hope for me

she is flirting with the breeze

on a peculiar choreography

with the dead arms of some old southern tree

silently, lips sealed against me

silently, wanna walk with me?

And it makes you wanna know

if in all the stories the truth is really told

And it makes you wanna reborn

and like a snake crawl every warm season

Into a different form

When you can still kill me,

when you can still cure me. Cure me.

Put your lace around my face

just like a fairytale

through the blank of my closed eyes

you can foresee the rope within

And it makes you wanna know

how deep have you truly flown

And it makes you wanna ride

through the fake suicide of someone

already dead inside

Still you walk with me, silently

And it makes you wanna disclaim

something you had really never learnt

And it makes you wanna stay

forever tangled in the pale arms of some hanged man

Here I stand. To understand.

Violently. I have you with me