Violet

The Tragic comedy divine paints the way to peace of mind,
leaving shadows lovers far behid.
Past uncertainties combine, brig tears to sleepless eyes.

Memory runs the coure of time,
blood runs cold beyond the violet prision for violent visions.
And so the broken record plays, as you throw us away.

We´re never enough,We´ré drowing in cliches,
so desperate to love,
we´ré twisting every word the say so we sleep through the das.

Within the heart of passio´n war,
lust is spilled upon the foor,
staing red the wasted metaphor.

The selfish need for something more claws in vain at closing doors,
scarring faces once adored,
tracing circles in the violet prision for violent vision.
And so the broken record plays,
as you throw us away.