Words Of Art
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These words, they come from the heart
From the heart that beats in you
They are merely words of art
Not the whole fucking truth
I will be a loving devotee
And you can be the hungry beast I feed
A man like me, if an infidel
Would much prefer your sister
Than spend his time a-fraternising
With another mister
What looks to have struck
Upon some basic beauty
Is reprehensible, trivial
And downright unholy
What struck me as beauty
You now defend with your license
This is an unreachable peach
Not one to hold up her hands
What are days and weeks and months and years
If not the counts of aging?
So while the crowds are gone and the floor is clear
Let's dance while to our graves we're racing
While the crowds are gone and the floor is clear
Let's dance while to our graves we're racing
With my son and my wife
There is a life yet to have been
For you to take it would be obscene
What are days and weeks and years
If not the counts of aging?
While the floor is clear and the hall is open
Let's dance while to our graves we're racing
With my son and my wife
(These words, they come from the heart)
There is a life yet to have been
(From the heart that beats in you)
For you to take it would be obscene
(I will be a loving devotee)
These are just words of art
(I will be a loving devotee)
These are just words of art
These are just words of art
Merely words of art
(What are days and weeks and months and years)
(If not the counts of aging?)
These are just words of art
(So while the crowds are gone and the floor is clear)
Merely words of art
(While the floor is clear)
These are just words of art
(Let's dance while to our graves we're racing)
What are days and weeks and months and years
If not the counts of aging?
So while the crowds are gone and the floor is clear
Let's dance while to our graves we're racing