It was the skies
It was her scent and her life
You could catch me of fall down

I guess it's been
A little while since I've slept
But I've dreamt you going down

Mistakes are made from the moment we met
Mistakes are made to last
Mistakes are met but are never acquired
Pastiches, La mere – pisstakes are made

Outside, outside I know
you can be anyone you want
Outside, outside I know
you can be with anyone you'd want
you can be with anyone you'd want

We all wore black
And screamed out from your darkened shed
"These ladies aren't here to serve you"
Your silent moans
"A sacrament without a toast"
We've all seen me going down to your ground

Stabs are made of turbulent lies
Stabs are made in pasts
Stabs are often as words forgotten
(Your) stabs are fate- stabs are made

I've never meant it the way it came out
Ghosts of sleepless streets
The dead of night, the death of silence
This room, it hasn't been any quieter (each night takes flight)
I'd love for you to have loved me
Shipped are the sails of seas
The words of those, the dead, the silenced
This room it shouldn't be any quieter