Låttexter
Ignored as a crimson lip from your toothbrush
I will wait
Abhorred by your kin in the name of a foreigner
I will blame
Valentine
Curse your ways
When will we begin to incessantly fall, inexorably?
When will our scalps run out of colour reserves
Or any at all?
We must strike while the fevered ill
Iron is hot, though man can't by force
Revoke his destined course, it incurs into madness
Oh, Valentine, welcoming the sadist of old
Cursing all to a lifetime of miserably clutching of miserable straws
Valentine
Curse your way
I need an explanation
A reason for my curse
The magnets have their North Pole
And I will need this worst
