Once upon a time there was a painter
He had a little house and canvas
But he loved an actress
who loved flowers
He then sold his home
Sold his paintings and his shelter
And with all the money he bought
a whole sea of flowers
A million scarlet roses
From the window you can see
The one, who is seriously in love,
transforms his life into flowers for you
A million scarlet roses
From the window you can see
The one, who is seriously in love,
transforms his life into flowers for you
In the morning, you stand at the window
Maybe you've gone crazy
As in a continuation of a dream
The plaza is full of flowers
Your soul grows cold
What rich man is making fun by here?
But under the window, almost breathless,
the poor painter stands
A million scarlet roses
From the window you can see
The one, who is seriously in love,
transforms his life into flowers for you
A million scarlet roses
From the window you can see
The one, who is seriously in love,
transforms his life into flowers for you
The encounter was short
At night, the train carried her away
But in her life remained
the mad song of roses
The painter kept living alone
Many troubles he beared
But in his life remained
the whole plaza of flowers
i’ve been here a while now
serving my time
watching the clock run down
waiting
holding my anger down
i fought for a long while
i tried to make good
for all of the things i’d done
but i know your trust in me
can never be rebuilt
i can dress up like a family man
but you know that suit never quite fit
and i can’t afford to have you staring at my back
i could move across the world and you would
still be here
waiting
counting every day
so i’m burning the whole thing down
this home...
it’s a prison cell
so i’m burning the whole thing down
we are a virus
we’re a product of bad luck
we scream our way into existence
nine months after someone else gets fucked
death as an option is a comforting idea
continuing in misery is something we do mostly out of fear
we are malignant, there’s no intelligent design
we’re a cancer feeding violently
upon the flesh of that which gives us life
death as an ending is a comfort to keep in mind
we forget that waking up each day is just a habit
we can choose to die