Sunday 9 December 2007 photo 2/2
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Take a look at my body Look at my hands There's so much here that I don't understand Your face-saving promises Whispered like prayers I don't need them 'cause I've been treated so wrong, I've been treated so long As if I'm becoming untouchable Well, contempt loves the silence, it thrives in the dark With fine winding tendrils that strangle the heart They say that promises sweeten the blow but I don't need them, no I don't need them I've been treated so wrong, I've been treated so long As if I'm becoming untouchable I'm a slow-dying flower In the frost-killing hour Sweet turning sour and untouchable I need the darkness, the sweetness, the sadness, the weakness Oh I need this I need a lullaby, a kiss goodnight, angel, sweet love of my life Oh I need this
Annons