اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Through the decadent streets
Some delicate fiends, float
From the shadows to the street light
Some faces of pale, unveil
So silent and still, I grab your scarlet hands
And I take you and hold you hard
We reach the top of this dark dark hill
And my heart rattles
Against my ribs
A misty path with frowning trees, whispering
They poke from view
Of an icy moon
And talks protrude
Of doom and gloom
