Mama used to say love is the art of decay,
That it was all about altercations,
Conscripts' deterioration
And to find oneself straying.
That it was all about altercations,
Conscripts' deterioration
And to find oneself straying.
It was a close call,
Almost didn't break my soul of blind steel,
Almost didn't live the violations of me,
The amusement of the things that can be
And the pieces of mine I left to all.
Nowadays, my heart can't barely fit within,
Because today the Lord sang O' Glory,
I pictured myself another story
And I am part of everywhere I have been.
I loathe to be there and not there:
Decay is verily the art itself
and love, love is just a pitty bird in a cage,
nothing but the slave of men
Cursed to carry the weight of scare.
nothing but the slave of men
Cursed to carry the weight of scare.
It took me lust and blood,
shredded sights and blooms
To see, as the world's proudest fool
To see, as the world's proudest fool
Love, albeit defeated, aye triumphs