Our voices joined in a high note, now over

Breathless we fall

Caught in the hanging cords, now silent

Grabbed my hand in the nausea

I made a bed out of irony

Lie with me

And my broken bones

Deliberating

Cheek to cheek

In the final blow

I'll lay you down in the quiverying grass

Your leg so frail that you craw after your convictions

My skin beings to pale, in the dark

I grab your hand, in the nausea

I made a bed out of irony

Lie with me

And my broken bones

Deliberating

Cheek to cheek

In the final blow