Dreadful is my hollow utopia
and it cries on my shoulders,
wetting my shoes somehow.
Confusion follows imagination
falling from my pathetic eyes
on my ghostlike soul.
Canards go into the sea
and his misery belongs to me
when the canards go,
oh, when the canards go
into the sea.
My life is ruined under the bricks
of this burning proportions
- I'm drowning within pools of half blood
shedding poisons,
after all, she is my {PRINCE}.
This gong ain't a piano anymore, darling.
Canards go into the sea
and his misery belongs to me
when the canards go,
oh, when the canards go
into the sea.
