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And our hands that break on closed doors
Our cheeks that freeze when we strike a pose
Our fingers that peel to the color of roses
And your legs that 'away from the warmth of another
Our eyes which hide under the bruises
Our voices which are broken in what opposes them
I searched the splinter, the origin of evil
But your bed will remain my last tomb
We turn, turn, turn around
I turn, turn, the other cheek
/>There is no magic here there is no poetry but
There is no violence here a few pages that we tore up
Stardust in the left pocket
Paintings of yours finally a few sketches
I'll burn my dirty laundry before you mow me down
Let the furnace of bodies calms and warms me
From the top of the dunes, objective moon
Comets burst and burn, I consume myself
Our bodies which fade away in favor shadows
You will come and extinguish me in the clamor of the world
We turn, turn, turn around
I stretch, stretch, the other plays
He there is no magic here there is no poetry but
There is no violence here a few pages that we tore up
There is no there is no magic here there is no poetry but
There is no violence here a few pages that we have torn
We turn, turn , turns around
I tense, tense, the other cheek
There is no magic here there is no poetry but
There is no violence here a few pages that we torn