Don´t even take a breath.
The air is cut with cyanide.
In honor of the new year.

The press gives us cause to celebrate:
These air raid sirens,
Flood barbed-wired skylines,
By artifical night.
As we sleep to burn the red
From our bloodless lives
Tonight we´re all time bombs
on fault lines.

Have we lost everything now?
We´re walking like each others ghosts
Around these silent streets ( the seditatives tell you everything is alright)
Like calendars dying at new year´s eve parties
As we kiss hard on the lips
And swear this year will be better than the last.

Jet black - the ink that spells your name.
Jet black - the blood that´s in your veins.
We say, "how long can we take this chance not to celebrate?"

There´s music playing,
But we dance to the beat
Of our own black hearts
And draw diagrams
Of suicide on each others wrists
Then trace them with razorblades.

Fire to flames
"strike match."
Burn these words from our lips
As the dagger screams
"Love is dead."
and it´s a "newspaper tragedy."

Have we lost what we love?
Have we said everything?
Does it change everything?
Stare at the clock,
Avoid at all costs,
This emptiness.

Ten seconds left
until midnight
nine chances to drown ourselves
in black hair dye
eight faces turned away
from the shock
seven windows and six of them locked.
five stories falling
For ever and ever
three cheers to the mirror
now there are two of us.
Can we have one last dance?
How can we take this chance not to celebrate life?