I’m pretending to give,
Pretending to love,
In a dark sky that’s weeping,
For the souls of the sweeping,
The dirt and decay,
Under the rug,
So no one will stay,
And drink from the mug,
Of empty memories,
And untold stories,
Of magic remedies,
Ànd fantastic glories,
That fall from the sky,
And wash our bodies,
And rest our souls,
From the drop of blood,
We give till we\'re old.
Until the tap is clogged,
And death will cough,
As we quietly jog,
And run for silence.
Rough as it is violent,
Until peace finally sits,
At the same table,
And eats up the same fable,
Of lost love, and being able.