Текст песни The Strand Settings: 3. Dark Harbor XXXV

The sickness, the sickness of angels is nothing new I have seen them crawling like bees Flightless, chewing their tongues, not singing Down, down, down by the bus terminal, hanging out Showing their legs, hiding their wings Carrying on for their brief term on earth No longer smiling; asleep, asleep in the shade of each other They drift into the arms of strangers who step Into their light, which is the mascara of Eden Offering more than invisible love Intangible comforts, offering the taste The pure erotic glory of death without echoes The feeling of kisses blown out of heaven Melting the moment they land