He wants to die in a lake in Geneva. The mountains can cover the shape of his nose. He wants to die where nobody can see him. But the beauty of his death will carry on so.
My friends, my dear friends. And lovers, oh my lovers. I'd leave you for them. . They got a hand on my back. . Mama has money now and Mama has friends.
They danced like sirens,. Hoping the sun would come out again,. And I was born in the fog of that day,. Could they hear a babe, under all that faith,.