Phrases that now smack of uselessness
Of lukewarm desires already shaken
She gets dressed, it no longer amuses her
He would probably also like to start again
Alibi that they tone down the obscenity
Reflected around the empty bottles
From his opaque and respectable twenty years
So you know something is wrong
/>The night opens its fragile arms
Among the emotions that intertwine
And it often confuses strength and experience
For all the men observed from below
It feeds on things that they hurt
And he loves when it's time to hate
He feeds on things that hurt
And he hates when it's time to scream
Clothes signed of uselessness
They redeem an affection that is now missing
Good manners that are always the same
He has always known that there is something wrong
The smiling night has fragile teeth
For all the kicks that await her
Generally she doesn't give confidence
To all those who act too much
She feeds on things that they hurt
And he loves when it's time to hate
He feeds on things that hurt
And he hates when it's time to scream
Only One thing I know for sure I would like to scrape my face against the wall Only one thing I know for sure Let go of all my pain against this wall I know for sure >Let go of my face against the wall
Only one thing I know for sure
I would like to scrape all my pain against-this-wall
Mouths with the taste of eventuality
They cast glances, the air is saturated
Almost would like them to discover it
Throw themselves into the meal just long enough to start again
He won't return home this night
Traveling out -series towards nowhere
Respectable nostrils celebrate
So you know that there is something wrong
The night slips on the pregnant eyes
Swollen with bitterness that overturn
Generally she reserves indifference
To all those who hold on too tightly
She feeds on things that hurt
And she loves when it's time to hate
/>He feeds on things that hurt
And he hates when it's time to scream
It's the night air of his city
That stings like a sense of uselessness
It's the night air of his city
That stings like a sense of uselessness
It's the air of the night in his city

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