I can see your face, your beautiful face
Which (unfortunately) is still attached to your body,
> a convulsing mass of flesh, organs, and open wounds
>> turned inside out
And walking these city streets I hear your name.
A perversion of the human langue,
and the bastard child of to many letters
Oh, how stupid I was to think you were beautiful,
> once
And I only hope you're as happy with him
> as you pretend to be with me.
There so many thing's left to say, kept inside
Everyone, I once would have been to afraid to say
I'd now love to scream in your face
> if we weren't separated by a few hundred miles
