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Singer
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The singer steps foward He is not a torch song singer He is not the embodiment of a soul brother The unassuming troubadour Sings to himself, softly Not a word escaps his lips. They don't even try. His words would rather stay as long with him as possible. But his melody is for me and for you. I prefer to be alone when you're not around. Sometimes when I speak I can't stand the sound Of my voice, this great big destructive machine That takes too much time to say what it means. They tell me that my father is sick once again With the plague that has decimated many old men And I settle once more to a long sad dread That reminds me that all loved ones will soon be dead. This is why I spent so much time making love to you In your arms I was searching for things that were true. This is why I spent so much time making love to you In your arms I was searching for things that were true. It's a memory of mine that I'm watching for a moment. I'm distracted just a bit by something less important. But I'm here for the part of the day that I crave; I have caffiene in my system that makes me feel brave. The chill in the air is exactly what I want, With the sun on my face and my eyes tightly shut. It's important to me to remember these things, It's important to me to remember these things. I'm pretending we're in Prague sipping sodas by the square. Where the clock brought the masses to the ceremony there. Every hour little puppets spin around the clock face Each figure represents one of


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