Script Of A Dead Poet Lyrics - Alphaville

the coffee black and nearly cold 

and i look back while hours pass by 

a sheet of paper on the table torn to shreds 

if you are able to solve the puzzle, try 

it's my last script that you may hold 

or wipe away when the bar has closed 

my last remains here in your hands and in the end 

what i was writing for, i just don't know 

don't know 

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how many times to make youy understand 

or was it for the triumph of applauding hands 

how many words i had to spell and all the stories i would tell 

for the short and orgiastic turn when'd you say: well 

Photos 

what were they for, these black inked dreams 

a guaranty that i was wise 

and so called gods define an entrance for eternal life 

into a masterpeace of mine 

all i wanted to be 

was extraordinary, extraordinary 

and maybe i was wrong 

how many people have i killed 

with my suicidal songs 

janey diamond/1993