Got that feeling of standing still
|
the shudder of winters coming chill
|
Got that distance in my eyes
|
frozen paintings of all my alibies
|
|
And I've got the urge to leave this room
|
but it has become my home
|
In this dark and familiar gloom
|
my features are turning to stone
|
|
Slowly
|
holy
|
intoxicating love
|
takes hold of me
|
while I survive another one
|
|
Got those pale trousers warming my will
|
they keep me from standing to still
|
Got that pale jacket clinging to me
|
I just know that I'll never be free
|
|
And I've got the urge to undress myself
|
but I dare not show my skin
|
Cause this damp and familiar gloom
|
has become what I am within
|
|
Slowly
|
holy
|
intoxicating love
|
takes hold of me
|
while I survive another one
|
|
-----------------
|
The Pale Suit Of Drunkenness
|
| Pale Forest |
