i dreamt i painted you
like one of my Frenchmen
posing on the couch
like one those women

glory of raw human skin
mess of flesh and bone
you are akin to art
so i painted you
like one of my Frenchmen

way down we go
no hope for the way we chose
now whose to blame
this heart you never claimed

you lured me in your perfidy like a lost sheep
i'm too tired i need sleep
i pray the Lord my soul to keep
for when i wake up i shall be at peace

i will stop loving you when the time freezes in it's place
i will stop loving you when there's dawn at dusk
when the ocean is dry and not a life in sight
when the moon won't no longer come up at night

i will stop loving you when stones become soft
i will stop loving you when mountains melt
when the sun will go out and the stars start falling
when eternity will end in the tick of a second

the hurt you give her won't bother her tranquil mind
nor will it take away the happiness in her heart that resides

she has practiced this way too many times
she's numb to the touch of silver piercing the flimsy flesh time by time

no wonder why she's unfazed by irreverent lovers
she's always been dependent on her needles
to clean up her gloomy mess

she sews every broken bit
until there's no piece left

she likes playing with needles
to relieve emotional stress

letting the pointy tip caress
every hurt that left her a wreck