It was the skies It was her scent and her life You could catch me of fall down I guess it's been A little while since I've slept But I've dreamt you going down Mistakes are made from the moment we met Mistakes are made to last Mistakes are met but are never acquired Pastiches, La mere – pisstakes are made Outside, outside I know You can be anyone you want Outside, outside I know You can be with anyone you'd want You can be with anyone you'd want We all wore black And screamed out from your darkened shed "These ladies aren't here to serve you" Your silent moans "A sacrament without a toast" We've all seen me going down to your ground Stabs are made of turbulent lies Stabs are made in pasts Stabs are often as words forgotten (Your) stabs are fate- stabs are made I've never meant it the way it came out Ghosts of sleepless streets The dead of night, the death of silence This room, it hasn't been any quieter (each night takes flight) I'd love for you to have loved me Shipped are the sails of seas The words of those, the dead, the silenced This room it shouldn't be any quieter