nunca más lloraré por él, por el amo, a las seis de la mañana.
You'll hang the hearts black and dull as the night
We hanged your pass and start being as you in ecstasty
Still being cried and laughed at before
Should I be sewn in hugged I can by not saying
Still being cried and laughed at from light to blue
And should I be hugged and tugged down through this tiger's masque
And should I be sung and unbroken by not saying
You mind not saying
cocteau twins. cherry-coloured funk.