still inside On old men's streets Ghosts of never beens Voices of the Violin Cried for many Nights Flames of the mind Hunted evil kinds [Chorus] The Violin
That whisper, your curling razor, mistakenly wound around my tongue to squeeze some fucking truth from that wicked obsession, your obsession, where I
reason with my heart to reason with my heart & now a watercolour night has drenched the birches & the black canal the voices in the mall the longing of the voices
That whisper, your lovely curling razor, mistakenly wound around my tongue to squeeze some fucking truth from that wicked obsession, your obsession
s still inside On old men's streets Ghosts of never beens Voices of the Violin Cried for many Nights Flames of the mind Hunted evil kinds [Chorus] The Violin