Put your arms around my neck 
just like a pathetic lace of death 
displays like a tarot deck 
I am the card of the hanged man 
and here I stand 
with a flame on my hand 
do you understand? 

If there is hope for me 
she is flirting with the breeze 
on a peculiar choreography 
with the dead arms of some old southern tree 

silently, lips sealed against me 
silently, wanna walk with me? 

And it makes you wanna know 
if in all the stories the [bad word] is really told 

And it makes you wanna reborn 
and like a snake crawl every warm season 
Into a different form 

When you can still kill me, 
when you can still cure me. Cure me. 

Put your lace around my face 
just like a fairytale 
through the blank of my closed eyes 
you can foresee the rope within 

And it makes you wanna know 
how deep have you [bad word] flown 

And it makes you wanna ride 
through the fake suicide of someone 
already dead inside 

Still you walk with me, silently 

and it makes you wanna disclaim 
something you had really never learnt 

and it makes you wanna stay 
forever tangled in the pale arms of some hanged man 

Here I stand. To understand. 
Violently. I have you with me.