Paroles Afterwords de Parenthetical Girls

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What desperate depths you've drug me to... still-blood to bruise-I'd run to you. So it's the least that I could do to remember you the way that you would want me to. Those days before these pores improved when, sore to swoon, I swore to you. Then ankles bound with trousers round, I'd lay the way you taught me to. Loose slacks ascend toward half-mast, those photographs outlast what's come to pass.I have in my mind the face: upright, the skin was taught... but horizontal, an excess came from somewhere to droop down-clouding sockets, flushing hollows-pulling the mouth into a drooping, head-heavy heart. It was in this position of the skin that it looked sadden, yet entirely moved by feeling sad. This is where I knew we met: The Kicking Dead.Those hips of rose through balls of blue-it's all that I'll recall of you. Those faithful few who never knew? Well, what they don't know won't hurt you. One sinful slip which slew us two-from scorn to screw I mourn for you who'd flatter me your fleur de lis. Who's elegies still seep from me. And pleased to fondly think of thee on berber-burnt and bended knees. So rest-however restlessly-with peace beneath these cherry trees...

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