Trycksvärta enligt Nagano

‘Cause I went looking for a trace of something that you left
And when I saw dried paint and your scribbled initials
I acted like I could care less while my thumb press to the paper
I wanted to find your portrait, wanted to have it

Recalling a piercing voice in old dreams
And ghostly images of black trains
Now seeing every page is turned away
I wanted to own your portrait
Wanted to have it

You and your scribbled paper makes me shiver so
You and your scribbled paper makes me shiver so

Filmisk svärta

Trycksvärta enligt Araki

And as we sat there listening to the carolers,
I wanted to tell Brian it was over now and everything would be okay.
But that was a lie, plus, I couldn't speak anyway.

I wish there was some way for us to go back and undo the past.
But there wasn't.
There was nothing we could do.

So I just stayed silent and trying to telepathically communicate how sorry I was about what had happened. And I thought of all the grief and sadness and fucked up suffering in the world,
and it made me want to escape.

I wished with all my heart that we could just leave this world behind.
Rise like two angels in the night and magically...


disappear.

Subtext

What matters is subtext:
the matter is subtext.

- Read between the lines, you said,
read between the lines. Look up close and you'll see me.

After that I got letters printed black,
as if the meaning of desire could be found in character letters.

Subtext is sex,
the unspoken language of the body
that gives you away

As I bled,
your vocabulary poured out me,
and every resting emotion surfaced.

It was your story of love expressed in metaphors,
and I prefer it printed,
in fulltext.

like headlines: screaming in void