I was always gone,
Bliss will be the music at my procession,
Smiling am I inside my see-through glass hearse
February,
The month where most flowers end up in the *******,
Sick am I of being a lover.

I can make pretend everything is okay
As if the rose I once planted was not dead long ago.
It's as beautiful as you can think.

Discovering dimensions of death
Look at how beautiful life is without you.
A millionaire on his throne.

I discover more of me
the more I find in you.

I am the air that sings inside your heart,
before you lay to sleep at night.

®K.S