Blood gets down in my grave's loam
A blade cut my tongue, when will I play again?
In my garden, without shedding my own blood.
Blood explodes through my grave's loam
When flesh is suffering and suffering is my flesh
Sensual decay of my body
And life, a theater of pain
And life, to love, to die
And life, for the savour of tears.
No discretion in my prayers, my passion nailed to a black cross
Sister death knocks on my door for the last rites
A torment as a temptation, my body tied up by putrefaction
Resurrection in blood, for the next holy day.
And life, as a radiance of pain
And life, to die and love again
And life to die and love until the Sunday
And life, for the savour of tears
And life !
For the savour of tears
Blood gets down on our grave's loam
A blade cuts our tongues and our fingers
Resurrection in blood for the next holy day.
A blade cut my tongue, when will I play again?
In my garden, without shedding my own blood.
Blood explodes through my grave's loam
When flesh is suffering and suffering is my flesh
Sensual decay of my body
And life, a theater of pain
And life, to love, to die
And life, for the savour of tears.
No discretion in my prayers, my passion nailed to a black cross
Sister death knocks on my door for the last rites
A torment as a temptation, my body tied up by putrefaction
Resurrection in blood, for the next holy day.
And life, as a radiance of pain
And life, to die and love again
And life to die and love until the Sunday
And life, for the savour of tears
And life !
For the savour of tears
Blood gets down on our grave's loam
A blade cuts our tongues and our fingers
Resurrection in blood for the next holy day.