A life, a wreck.
Charming is her dress...
...and the nape of her neck.
My ink´s awry in the blink of an eye
It leaves, by the by.

Take off old threads by her tomb of a bed.
Am I right in the head?
And we´ll pretend like we´re angry young men...
...lest we should forget.

Angst marrs your eyes (such unclear warning signs).
Am I evil? Am I kind?
My heart´s cold drone will outlive these faded bones...
...but I won´t always be alone, I won´t always feel this...

How she now sits oddly with the times.

I was lost, was lost, was lost and so ashamed.