The Shame

(альбом: Burn Piano Island, Burn - 2003)

My heart is a black haunted loom
Weaving jackets for children who'll never be born
My hands are abandoned factories
Manufacturing heartbreak and hate for the world
As we waltz the broken dance of our limbs
This ballroom has been groped by so many evil whims and
As I drill the last hole into you
The well of your body has hardened into some glue and

And everything is gonna be just awful when we're around
And all the colors gonna rot off your sight when we're around

I remember the day that I sold my
Smile to that nice couple who lost their first child
I threw in a set of sympathy
And a bucket of popcorn for the cemetery
But now my face is all fenced off
The sky is boarded up, the hills covered in drop cloth and

And how many chords till this song vomits out real love?
And how many feathers to pluck naked the soiled dove?
And how many whores till you send away for that trophy?
And how many punches till you give yourself away for free?
'Cause those bruises on your face
Look like the sun setting in disgrace

And how many whores till you send away for that trophy?
And how many punches till you give yourself away for free?
'Cause those bruises on your face
Look like the sun setting in disgrace
'Cause those bruises on your face
Look like the sun setting in disgrace

Everything is gonna be just awful when we're around
All the colors gonna rot off your sight when we're around
I am just a salesman, pleased to meet you, can I show you around?
Everything must go the shadows, the seagulls, when we're around

(This is our shame)