Текст песни The Luxury of Tears - Christian Death
                                                In 
                                                    a 
                                                phallic, 
                                                stone 
                                                tower
 
                                    
                                
                                                We 
                                                rise 
                                                and 
                                                fly 
                                                or 
                                                stand 
                                                knee 
                                                deep 
                                                in 
                                                water
 
                                    
                                
                                                Skin 
                                                is 
                                                smooth 
                                                and 
                                                damp
 
                                    
                                
                                                Every 
                                                time 
                                                he 
                                                crosses 
                                                them
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                there 
                                                are 
                                                bones 
                                                in 
                                                bed 
                                                with 
                                                that 
                                                child,
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                figure 
                                                behind 
                                                the 
                                                glass,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Me 
                                                in 
                                                his 
                                                mouth
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                man 
                                                has 
                                                come 
                                                and 
                                                gone,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Aroused 
                                                my 
                                                photographic 
                                                memory
 
                                    
                                
                                                Orphan 
                                                sons 
                                                and 
                                                his 
                                                raw 
                                                hands
 
                                    
                                
                                                (Were 
                                                slammed 
                                                in 
                                                his 
                                                face)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Like 
                                                fire 
                                                under 
                                                whores
 
                                    
                                
                                                Insect, 
                                                smiling 
                                                eyes 
                                                project 
                                                rain
 
                                    
                                
                                                Blaze 
                                                against 
                                                his 
                                                teeth
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                luxury 
                                                of 
                                                tears 
                                                burned 
                                                my 
                                                fingers,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Spinning 
                                                devils 
                                                of 
                                                snow
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                luxury 
                                                of 
                                                tears 
                                                burned 
                                                my 
                                                fingers,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Spinning 
                                                devils 
                                                of 
                                                snow
 
                                    
                                
                                                Oh 
                                                devils 
                                                must 
                                                know 
                                                the 
                                                luxury 
                                                of 
                                                tears
 
                                    
                                
                                                Changing 
                                                his 
                                                shape, 
                                                he 
                                                raised 
                                                his 
                                                eyes,
 
                                    
                                
                                                Eyes 
                                                masked 
                                                with 
                                                green
 
                                    
                                
                                                Threw 
                                                out 
                                                his 
                                                arms, 
                                                pulled 
                                                open 
                                                the 
                                                door
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                moist, 
                                                sour 
                                                tongue 
                                                down 
                                                the 
                                                silver 
                                                screen
 
                                    
                                
                                                Usher 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                bleak 
                                                years
 
                                    
                                
                                                Through 
                                                his 
                                                yawning 
                                                neck
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                undress 
                                                in 
                                                his 
                                                throat
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                passion 
                                                for 
                                                dust
 
                                    
                                
                                                (Was 
                                                slammed 
                                                in 
                                                his 
                                                face)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Pull 
                                                them 
                                                down 
                                                by 
                                                the 
                                                wings
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                rose 
                                                from 
                                                my 
                                                ribs
 
                                    
                                
                                                Stole 
                                                back 
                                                up 
                                                the 
                                                stairs
 
                                    
                                
                                                (And 
                                                laughed 
                                                in 
                                                his 
                                                face)
 
                                    
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