Dit navn smager af efterår, og dine læber udstråler sommer
Din glød viser forår, mens dit hår er formet som vinter

Dine øjenvipper mod min kind er august, og dine fingerspidser er februar
Dine fregner er juni og dine øjne er klart oktober

Dine blodårer er marts, men dit hjerte er maj
Din hud er januar, og dit smil er juli og de lidt for tydelige kraveben er da helt sikkert april
Linjerne i dine hænder er september, og de sorte rander om øjnene minder mig om november

og nu forstår du vel, at jeg ikke kan svare på, hvilken af månederne der er min yndlings.

You're acting too indifferent to not care at all

Og vejen flyver
alkohol i blodet
dig i hovedet
ikke en god blanding

flere mennesker
bare forbipasserende
stjernerne falder
og bladene ligeså

knæene ryster
kuldegysninger
nærmest forfrysninger

alkohol i leveren
dig i hjertet
en blanding lavet i helvede

følelserne begraver sig selv i jorden
Og vejen flyver stadig

i will lay in my bed
halluzinating about you
dreaming about your touch
you're far away in a dream

i will lay in my bed
11:11, wishing for you
hoping for us
but you're far away in a dream

i will lay in my bed
closing my eyes
praying they'll never open again
because i've never had this good dreams
as the ones where you are in my bed.

i would sleep my life away, so dreams would become my reality, if it meant, that we could be together

things will fall apart again
and again
and then again

you can fix some things
like scars
plates
even relationships

you can't fix people
you can't fix crumpled paper
you can't fix killed flowers

some things will be ruined forever
and maybe, they were meant to be ruined
just so we could see the beauty in them.

my words
will drown
in tears
before you'll hear what you've did to me.

you broke my heart
without even speaking a word
and maybe that's the problem
you just left.
no explanations.

you are not their definition of beauty.

they say that you are nothing more than your white, cracked bones
but they don't see the crystalblue sea that's flowing  inside your bones

they say, that you are nothing more, than your destroying cigarettes
but  they don't see the daisys, that grow in your lungs

they say, that your blood is nothing more than devasting alcohol
but they don't see, that it's that blood, that makes your lips more red, than a thousand roses on a sparkling springday

they say, that there are nothing more,  than braincells, ruinning through your head
but they don't see, the effervescent stars, and the sparkling snowflakes falling out of your eyes

they say that your skin, is nothing more than the faults and scars in it,
but they don't see the sunset, hiding under the first layer of skin.

*You are not their definition of beauty, you are not their definition of you.