To be the prince of possession in the gallery of contempt |
| Suffering your indiscreet discretions and you ask me to relent |
| As you accumulate flirtations with the calculated calmness of the whore |
| I am the harlequin - diamonded costume dripping shades of green |
| I am the harlequin - sense strangers violate my sanctuary |
| Prowl my dreams |
| Plundering your diaries, I'll steal your thoughts innocence |
| Ravaging your letters, unearth your plots innocence |
To don the robes of Torquemada, resurrect the inquisition |
| In that tortured subtle manner inflict questions within questions |
| Looking in shades of green through shades of blue |
| I trust you trust in me to mistrust you |
Through the Silk Cut haze to the smeared mascara |
| A 40 watt sun on a courtroom drama |
| And the coffee stains gather till the pale kimono |
| Set the wedding rings dancing on the cold linoleum |
And accusations moths that circle on the light |
| Char their wings and spiral senseless suicidal flight |
| You packed your world within a suitcase, hot tears melt this icy palace |
| Dissolve a crystal swallowed by the night |
| Looking in shades of green through shades of blue |
| Looking in shades of green through shades of blue |