Was it my innocence When this wound began speaking? The sound is ugly, the language incorrect Subsonic whines Love, love, love, love, blah, blah, love Protected by the blue screen White noise caressed shouldn't-beens Growing on the parquetry Shouldn't-beens on your parquetry Sending signs from skeletal jails For the untoldth time connection fails Painted shades on shapeless face All natural, all lame, all the same Love, love... corpses embrace Love, love... mates in fate Born into profusion But to die is the only birth right With nazionality and responsebility Suicide, suicide, love, love, suicide