1999 - Climate

I can’t face the days

Without her here at night

And eight long years to go

In my lonely life

For the little folds in her eyelids

The gentle sighs in the dark

The way down as a failure

Isn’t too far

I wouldn’t feel better if it were the real thing

Ending the summer with crying and fear

Nineteen ninety-nine was such a long year

I’m so blue and beat down

So tired from from traveling

But I can’t seem to find room

At your inn

The wine stain surrounds us

On the pillow that you chewed

But dspite your love for murder

I’d rathr be you

I wouldn’t feel better if it were the real thing

Ending the summer with crying and fear

Nineteen ninety-nine was such a long year

My eyes are tired beasts

But it doesn’t matter in the least

If you’d marry me

We’d kill the priest

And all the congregation

And i know you’d cry

To have eight long years to go

In your lonely life

I wouldn’t feel better if it were the real thing

Ending the summer with crying and fear

Nineteen ninety-nine was such a long year