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The art of suicide, nightgowns and hair |
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Curls flying every which-way |
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The fate too pure to hide, ridges of size |
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Meant to conceal lover's lies |
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Under the arches of moonlight and sky |
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Suddenly easy to contemplate why |
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Why, why live a life |
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That's painted with pity and sadness and strife? |
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Why dream a dream |
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That's tainted with trouble and less than it seems? |
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Why bother bothering |
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Just for a poem or another sad song to sing? |
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Why live a lie? |
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Why live a lie? |
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The art of suicide, gritty and clean |
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Conveys a theatrical scene |
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Alas, I've gone she cried, veins displayed |
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Melodramatically laid |
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Under the arches of moonlight and sky |
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Suddenly easy to contemplate why |
|
Why, why live a life |
|
That's painted with pity and sadness and strife? |
|
Why dream a dream |
|
That's tainted with trouble and less than it seems? |
|
Why bother bothering |
|
Just for a poem or another sad song to sing? |
|
Why live a lie? |
|
Why live a lie? |
|
Why live a life |
|
That's painted with pity and sadness and strife? |
|
Why dream a dream |
|
That's tainted with trouble and less than it seems? |
|
Why bother bothering |
|
Just for a poem or another sad song to sing? |
|
Why live a lie? |
|
Why live a lie? |
|
Why live a lie? |
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Why live a lie? |
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Life is not like a gloomy |
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SundayWith a second ending where the people are disturbed |
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Well, they should be disturbed |
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Because there's a story that ought to be heard |
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Life is not like a gloomy |
|
SundayWith a second ending where the people are disturbed |
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Well, they should be disturbed |
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Because there's a lesson that really ought to be learned |
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The world is full of poets, we don't need any more |
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The world is full of singers, we don't need any more |
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The world is full of lovers, we don't need any more |
