Southern Gothic - Ulver

I want to tell you something

About the grace of faded things

The draped compositions

Hiding from the new world

Behind old french doors

The last rays of the setting sun

On the cheeks of cherub faces

The traces of their tears

But you do not listen

Your mind is somewhere else

I speak with a frozen tongue

In a dead language

I want to tell you something

About the grace of faded things

The draped compositions

Hiding from the new world

Behind old french doors

The last rays of the setting sun

On the cheeks of cherub faces

The traces of their tears

But you do not listen

Your mind is somewhere else

I speak with a frozen tongue

In a dead language

There is a world between us

There is a sunken garden

Love lies bleeding there

And words they mean nothing

To anyone

Anymore