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Correct Here Hung Those Lips Lyrics
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The Suicide Of Miss Melancholy
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Correct Here Hung Those Lips
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Everything... It seems so meaningless Unless there's hope beyond all common sense What senses must we stimulate to fill our need? What we need I cannot seem to reach I've stretched enough; I've grasped at every reason. All I've found are endless thoughts in limited space. Let's not forget what we are A spectacle of mystical dust We're puppets to the beckoning hands, Of paradigms and tedious men. And I forget who I am A child without any demands, Just great aspirations to be A slave of a lesser degree, A hostage to be set free... Will I be? But when all you have is some experience You'll crucify your Intellect and give meaning to another day Because every day seems like the day before And every thought capitulates in foretaste Am I immune to my deficiency? What is the point in these moralities? Let's not forget what we are A galaxy of incessant bizarre. A burst of life from an unconscious abyss, A mother's tongue and a Judas kiss.
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