Paroles de Suicidal Tears

In the play which he has written for the world Night is the mother of sleep Old age is a malady of which one dies Augury of a better age Sages as far as the beard Their wounds smelled so sweetly Temptation, the father of my lust Chalcedony shines like the new born Stricken I'd raise my dripping limbs Splendid was the innocentcs fall Laugh to scorn would our foe Amid wars laws are silent Drop by drop in sleep upon the heart Falls the labrious memory of pain In the rich upheavel of vast choirs Death shall flee from me!