I've given and taken and given,. Now in my world of only your vision. Faces of white wrapped in delicate decay,. Oh please, why won't you take me away?. Reaching toward a pale illusion,. One which wil
hold through violent, blurted syllables. Escape my mouth under my breath. The voice of pricking dread is whispering insistent in my ears. My paranoia has galvanized by your gaze, so austere This
world in your ears,. As a mountain of steel makes its way to the sea,. And the last ship sails. . It’s a strange kind of beauty,. It’s cold and austere,. And whatever it was that ye’ve done to be
Claquements de mains. Refrain Stromae. "Allez vous faire. !". . Couplet 1 Stromae. Toujours les mêmes discours, toujours les mêmes airs. Hollande, Belgique, France austère. Gauches, ou
amidst the pine and wreathed wolfsbane. Beyond these walls, wherein condemned. To the gloom of an austere tomb. I pace with feral madness sent. Through the pale beams of a guiltless moon. Who, bereft
