In the clockwork, in the clockwork,
time is never at ease
A frantic sensation is hammering 
nails in your spine
Multiple fractions and 
muscle contractions will tear
your mind into shreds, cutting your threads 
Do you regret you were born? 
Take my hands into yours, 
dance my senses away
Take my hands into yours, 
before mother superior's home 

Monsieur, monsieur you look like 
the saint in my dreams
Igniting the flame and carving 
my name next to yours
This urban decline is 
leaving its sign round my neck
Pulling the noose, tells me I'll lose
There's nothing to save 

I'm sober, I'm sober, but I wish I was not
A gentle diversion or 
a touch of divine I could use
The curtains are closed, 
but I still feel exposed to the world
Wishing away somewhere astray
Are you still listening?