Broken hands, so sans soleil
|
It lights my way through these
|
empty streets at night.
|
Dragging heels, the cold air stabs me
|
like a needle running with this thread
|
Scissors cut me dead and gone
|
living like the blade I carry
|
I never thought of you
|
living all alone,
|
scissors cut me dead I never felt
|
like anyone could ever be
|
so far from home
|
The day begins
|
when the music ends its days
|
like these that I
|
wish I were somewhere else.
|
And I can't forget my own name
|
replace it with a voice
|
that carries on.
|
|
-----------------
|
Sun-Less
|
| Funeral For A Friend |
