Angst Macht Frei

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