I can not leave untill I write the last lines. Shine on me, old moon,
give me light to see my fingers. My skin wrinkles, my hair turns
white. Hello moon, you old fool. Shining on me in ecstasy. What
do you want, witness my death? I’ll wait ‘till morning. Hello moon,
you old fool. Shining on me in agony. What do you want, witness my death? I’ll wait ‘till morning. I’m a living sculpture under your yellow
light. Insanity of fighting for my life. Fragmented life of disturbed and troubled mind. I’ll take the chance and write the last lines and your light won’t suffice. I’m waiting for the morning to banish you from skies. Until then I’ll be silent, staring back in your old face. You can not control what you can not erase. Hello moon, you old fool. Shining on me in ecstasy. What do you want, witness my death? I’ll wait ‘till morning. Hello moon, you old fool. Shining on me in agony. What do you want, witness my death? I’ll wait ‘till morning. I’m not putting period to this poem:
Здравствуй, Луна. Старая дура! Я в свете тебя живая скульптура.
Я в сердце воткну на несколько строчек Тупую стрелу - обрежу источник. Я вроде б влюблен, да не от кровати. Моих похорон мне смысл не понятен. Хоронит меня моя же натура. На свет бела дня облазает шкура. С плеча до бедра и сердце сжигает немая пора, когда смысл теряет... Забытый пустяк. Становится страшно. Я точно дурак, что, впрочем, неважно. Наслушалась, Желтая! Выпусти пар!
Скажи мне на зло, что я буду стар!
Hello moon, you old fool. Shining on me in ecstasy. What do you want, witness my death? I’ll wait ‘till morning.
Industrial textures and vocals with a hint of gothic melodrama come together on tAngerinecAt''s latest trip to the dark side. Bandcamp New & Notable May 3, 2022
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