It's not profound to know that you can never know.

Oh, your love is sunlight.

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies.

So I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out how I'm imagining you.

I'm taking down the number of the Times, so when we get the sign from god I'll be the first to call them!

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours, staring into open flame.

There is no sweeter innocence then our gentle sin.

Nobody knows his real name, so now he just uses one he saw on a grave.

Screaming the name of a foreigner's God; the purest expression of grief.

Loathe the way they light candles in Rome- but love the sweet air of the votives.

Am I right back where I'd started, nineteen years ago?

When I was a man, I thought it ended, when I knew love's perfect ache; but my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake.

Innocence died screaming, honey- ask me, I should know; I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.

There is no sweeter innocence then our gentle sin.

I think I have determined where your place is. Your place is here, under me.

I am creation, both haunted and holy.

There may not be meaning, so find one and sieze it.

Innocence died screaming, honey- ask me, I should know; I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.

BE NOT AFRAID.

Know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty, oh, my sunlight.