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A rich belief that no one sees you

Your ribbon cut from all the fates and

Some hound of Hell looking for handouts

The breath between things no one says

Author of a poor design

No one to steady your hand

All things lost in their own time

Where have you gone to, where have you gone to?

Return to me

Return again

Return to me

Return again

Some demimonde astride the crossing

You're reaching for a life-like face

You stumble to the cellar door, and

Your fragments glitter the eyelids of a child

Author of a poor design

No one to steady your gaze

And the things a pound of flesh can't buy

Where have you gone to, where have you gone to?

To return to me?

To return again?

Return to me

Return again