No one lives their life full-out, except bull-fighters. - Earnest Hemmingway

Another record player breaks its needle
And the song scrapes to a stop
Another day, so beautiful
Today I'm not getting up
(Leave the blinds closed)
(this time I burn)
Burning, Burning, Burning
Tommorow I'll be fine...
Burning, Burning, Burning
You'll sing a lulaby
I'll fall asleep.

Now I'm everyone and no-one
And your waiting by the phone
With any-face, or any-name
You know how the story goes...
I never call.

And I Tireseus sat by Thebes and said
It was better for her.
And I Nero, years before I blead
Sang while the city burned!
Oh what an artist dies in me...
Oh what an artist the world is losing...
In Me.

This story half-read, fully understood.
The hero is the villian
And beneith the executioners hood
I see my face!

So Angel don't wait up
This twilights crystalline enough
To serve a banquet fit for a princess
So I'll feed you pomegantie seeds
And call you Persephone
She who destroys the light

And for one last moment sirens sing
Of flowers you, and they, once picked
I am the last petal fallen to the ground
The spring is martyred, forgotten
And all of Autumns leaves are rotting
As every star has given-up
Its Romance
Its Romance
Romance...
This is Romance!

Today I'm Jake, Living this sunset
Isn't it pretty to think so
Isn't it pretty to think so
Isn't it pretty to think so
Isn't it pretty to think so.