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There is no light in us
There're no more gods to believe in
Only paintings - photographs
Failures of our life
The brush strokes on this lifeless ground
Of what have we become
What have we become...
You are the face from my paintings
The reverie has become
Withered dying in the frames of time
Decayed in memories of your smile
In this bitter paint of life
We're just the cut photographs
So we paint out painthings
Bloodred painthings
Everything is changing
Bloodred painthings
My last words in the
Bloodred painthings
And with the last brush stroke
I'll miss you all!
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