I'm clicking your fingers

for a gothic twilight

that actually existed

just in your head

your fingernails painted black or bloodred I forget

and your fake-leather volumes jabbering on hell

manifest decadence was what you hoped to exhale

your eyes tried so hard to glitter

a star-snuffing black so you opened your books

and you opened your legs and so opened your heart

and let in the badness you claimed as your friend

with un-angels hovering like flies around the orchard

that had covered your soul their empire increasing

and your country deserted by your self

the bells of st. mary call us to remember

that life is with end

and the gestures can kill us moreover destroy

and there is one judgment only

your letters came daily in french or in german

but they meant to me nothing i caught the slow chords

and dry ice fogging your mind

i see all too clearly now why you could be discarded

and though i could pray for you i probably shan't

having had my cup filled up with your lies and your make-up

you were nothing thinking you're something

and nonetheless i still write this gothic love song

a sign to myself and the memory of my past

i still write this gothic love song

a sign to myself and the memory of my past

and a way to shut out your f