Love For The Tortured

Every, everyone is a sinner

Every human is leaving this room to find a new youth to bare

Or maybe return to their mothers to wear down her chairs

And with a loud noise she will foster your children,

Every mother will bare the flaws of her womb

Or generations are lost and Man will fall to the floor

Like pieces of meat.

All the fruit will fall from our trees and enter the bees

Traces on our skin of death and the seconds burned

Traces on my clothes of the stories I rejected

I can see you in the mirror place where our bodies strife

And our names are torn from the glass and colors collide

And I pierce my hand through your skin like iron through ice

So call me, call me up, I am burning, call me up,

I am dying with energy from the dead waiting to live

All the colors are trap doors inside, piercing holes through my fists

And it’s a real noise coming out of my fingers, coming out of my fingers,

When I touch the ground around your house

And I sense the people inside as they close their lids to fall asleep

And their fruit will fall from their trees and enter the bees

Traces on our skin of death and the seconds burned

Traces on my clothes of the stories I rejected

I can see you in the mirror place where our bodies strife

And our names are torn from the glass and colors collide

And I pierce my hand through your skin like iron through ice

And everyone would sing along if I sang some truth

Every kid would pay attention to the recorder spinning

And as the rumors start to fade I explain:

That everyone is insane

Bit by bit we start to fall apart

Insane

Roaring out the colors of the dead in the ground,

Awaking

Mothers take your children to your hearts

Sinners take me by surprise

Da da da da da...