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My Funeral

Voyage Noir
Popularity ยท Low
๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง English ยท Original

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Lyrics

There's a pair of red shoes Number twenty four On top of a pile Of children's shoes They were from a child Of three years Burned in the ovens Like his tears Cause the feet of the dead child Do not grow Cause the feet of the dead child Do not consume the souls And there is a friend Who opens arms When you walk between The barbed wires To help you weave golden memories Even if the tears fall down the road Cause the tears of the dead child Does not stain Cause the tears of the dead child Nobody sees at all Consider every road As if it was the last one out Broken road with triple windows They won't play it anymore I hold your hand tight And we lead ourselves into the dark I hold your hand tight It's my funeral It's your funeral It's a funeral It's a funeral It's my funeral It's your funeral It's a funeral It's a funeral Dust-clad box of a zyklon Mute, dull eyes in dull of trying Your skin is like pale aurora Red rose blooms out of the gate I hold your hand in the meantime Your tears are twinkling in the dark It's my funeral It's your funeral It's a funeral It's a funeral It's my funeral It's your funeral It's a funeral It's a funeral